


Captain America Mark II

by Philpott397



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Injury Recovery, M/M, Most of the Marvel Movies Used, Nightmares, Spoilers, hurting characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 76,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philpott397/pseuds/Philpott397
Summary: Scott T'Perro is just a Captain in the Army when everything goes wrong during his deployment.  Gifted with a second chance by a shadowing organization, who is he to say no when the other option is living his life paralyzed and alone.  The scientists are just as surprised as him when the meticulously made serum works and suddenly he's the physical clone of his childhood idol.  In a burning facility, he doesn't get much warning before the Avengers break down the door.  Will they treat him like the illegal lab experiment he is or let him live?
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Original Male Character, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Captain America Mark II

Captain Scott T’Perro has never had a day in his life that wasn’t filled with anxiety and tension, but this one seems to trump all of those that came before. The heavy smell of antiseptic and sterile cleaning products filling his nose as he squinted through the blinding white of the wall and florescent lights. There was a tingling numbness in his legs and a deep constricting pain wrapping around his chest like iron straps. The only sound in the room was his raspy breathing and the rhythmic beeping from the monitor attached to his finger. 

The last thing he remembers the explosion, those terrorists laughing with mirth as they walked through the writhing remains of his squad. Executing his friends with smiles on their faces before advancing on the wounded captain of the American menace infiltrating their country. He remembers being beaten in that dusty street, over and over again until black spots dominated his vision. Only hearing yells in two different languages before the sound of gun shots had lulled him into the looming darkness.

“Mr. T’Perro?” A feminine voice asks, a gentle hand on his bandages and shaking forearm.

“What?” Scott asks, snapping out of his memory with a trembling shiver running down his spine.

“I was asking how you were, this is the first time you’ve woken up since you were brought in.” She says, her name tag reading Nurse Irene. 

“Oh, I’m alright I guess. Where am I?” He asks, wincing a little as she checks the red spotted bandages wrapping tightly around his chest along with a sturdy black brace.

“You’re in Walter Reed, they kept you in a coma for a few weeks while they moved you from Afghanistan.” Nurse Irene explains, loosening the straps on the brace so that she could get to the bandages underneath.

“How bad is it?” Asking breathlessly as she sits him up a little in bed to remove the brace and start unwinding the ointment and sweat soaked bandages from his chest.

“I’ll let the doctor explain the specifics, but the office did drop off some medical discharge papers for you to sign. Don’t worry sir, we’ll work on getting as better as we can before we release you back home.” She tries to reassure him, soaking a towel in warm water to wash the grime off his defined chest.

_Home_ , the word stings and triggers a deep ache in his chest that has nothing to do with his probably cracked sternum. He’d gotten a dear John letter not halfway into his first deployment, his fiancé telling him that she wouldn’t be waiting as she had promised him over and over. It was a deep blow after losing his both his parents the year before to a car crash while he was overseas. He had no one left in his life anymore, the military had distracted him from that for many years after those events. Building a family within it before watching it wither away in front of him. Now collapsing in shambles as he thought of the elegant writing of the medical discharge waiting for him.

“Are you in pain Mr. T’Perro?” She asks softly, noticing the tears welling in his far-off eyes. 

“A little yeah, chest hurts.” He mumbles, wincing as she tightens the brace over the new ointment covered bandaged chest. 

“I’ll give you an extra half dose of morphine to help you get some more rest. Just press the red button here if you need anything and the control for the TV is here next to your water.” She explains, pointing first to the control panel on the side of his bed by his head and the tray table that held an old TV remote and a spill proof hospital cup filled with ice water.

“Thank you.” He says softly, getting a look of compassion rather than pity from the woman as she gently tucked his blanket back around his sides, setting an extra on the edge of the tray table just in case he got cold.

The next two weeks drifted past him in a fog of doctors and nurses talking to him about his progress or lack of it as his superficial wounds healed. The loss of feeling in his legs had come from a particularly nasty blow from one of the terrorist’s steel-toed boots to the delicate anatomy of his spine. It left him lost as they tried talking to him about physical therapy and assisted living centers. He doesn’t snap out of his thoughts until a man in an expensive suit walks through with crisp tan folder in his hand. In the middle of watching some television series that made him laugh about every other episode.

“Captain T’Perro, it is nice to finally meet you.” The dark-haired man says, shaking his confused hand with vigor before taking a seat in the chair reserved for the visitors he never got.

“Not a captain anymore, Mr.? Scott trails off, turning down the volume on the TV before turning to give the man some of his lackluster attention.

“Samson. Captain or no, you’re an American hero sir and we at the Nexus Corporation would hate to see that talent wasted.” Mr. Samson says, handing him a business card from the folder.

“I’m paralyzed, not much talent anymore.” He mumbles, setting the card down as he reached over to grab his water cup instead, the painkillers making him thirsty beyond what was normal.

“I sincerely disagree sir, tell me have you heard of Captain America?” The man continues, seemingly undisturbed by the depressed tone in his voice that the medical officials in this building had been honing onto recently.

Who hadn’t heard of the super soldier? The Avengers themselves had been making headlines nearly every week as they softened the Hydra forces battering every area of the planet. It was because of them that the United States armed forces could use their volume of soldiers to take out those left behind and restore peace to regions torn apart by the violence. But that Captain, he’d been an icon to Scott since he was a boy.

“What of him?” Scott found himself asking, turning his full attention to the now smirking man.

“We have a procedure that has a chance to mimic the serum given to the Captain. I came here to offer you a spot on the candidate list considering your injuries and lack of a life outside of the military. If you accept the procedure would be done and you’d be allowed back into the military.” The man explains, peaking his interest.

There were plans sorted out in his mind for when he’d get out of the hospital. Most involved a gun or a stolen bottle of pills to not have to live like this for the rest of his life alone. Now he was being given a real chance at something like living and even if it didn’t work he could still revert to his other plans for his life. Biting the edge of his lip, he gave the man an expression of thinking for a moment as to not appear blown over completely from the offer.

“Where do I sign?” He asks, getting a downright predatory grin from the man as he opened the folder and held out a pen.

Time seemed to flash by as he signed the line at the bottom of the paper. Words like liability and possible death appearing briefly in his thoughts before being pushed to the side by hope. In a matter of days he’s on an exam like table with several other candidates lying on similar ones in the warehouse like room he’d been wheeled into. There are metal restraints curling around his wrists, ankles, and head. Doctors shuffling around him hooking up an IV and heartrate monitor. 

A buzzer goes off over his head and suddenly another set of doctors switches out the ones he had before. These pry open the veins on his arms and ankles and shove tubes into them. He’s panting at the pain it wells up in his body, not noticing for a moment the heavy metal robotic arms descending form the ceiling. On the end of each is a metal plate the size of a dinner plate. The sides pointing down at him is layered with no less than a dozen needles each with vials of different colored liquids in glass vials on the other side. 

Tensing as he feels each different length, different gauge needle pierce into the skin of his chest it takes him a moment to notice similar devices being lowered toward his abdomen, arms, and legs. He can feel the needles in his body as he breaths, and he starts to groan in pain as the procedure really starts. He watches the vials of liquid start to drain into his body, burns licking up his nerves like he’s being burned as the serum works it’s way through his vein, arteries, and into his heart. From there it’s pumped through his body into his muscles, nerves, and bones. 

Scott starts screaming with the other men and women around him are his muscles shift under his skin and bones feel like they’re breaking into a million pieces. His vision starts to go black as the table trembles under him. Suddenly there are others screaming and things breaking and short circuiting around him. His world goes dark and he doesn’t wake up for what feels like hours but is only minutes. 

Sitting up, he feels the metal restraints around his wrist crack open and split like they were made of paper. Half of the building has collapses to his right, tens of bodies lying on the ground dead as flames lick up a wall in front of him. There’s no noise except for the groaning of the building’s structure, dust making him cough slightly. Looking down at his body he stuck in a breath. Under the red marks from the injections is a toned body bristling with muscle and power. The procedure worked, just for him it seems as he looks around at the pained expressions of the other dead test subjects. 

Sliding off the table onto his unsteady feet, he’s grown from his previous 5’ 10” height to something around 6’4”. He’s shocked out of admiring his now working legs when police sirens and helicopters start to approach the hanger. Stumbling to a doctor lying face down on the concrete of the lab, he grabs their key card and wallet before running over to the still standing armory that he’d seen the security of this building filing in and out of. Grabbing a pair of grey cargo pants and a shirt and plain blue jacket that fit, he hastily put them on along with a pair of underwear, socks, and boots he found in another locker.

The clothes are just barely able to cover his new size and look normal, he thanked some god for oversized security guards. Grabbing a pistol, he shoves it into his jacket pocket before stumbling slightly back to the main area of the lab. Glancing to his side, he watches as someone tears open the front metal doors to the building. The imposing figure of Iron man staring at him from behind that helmet and he panics as the man shoots toward him with the help of his jets. He didn’t necessarily know if this program was approved by anyone, but the way the small group of Avengers was coming at him, he thought better than to shake hands with them.

So under the thought that he’d be put down like a test animal if he got caught, he fights back. His fist makes short work of sending the armored man into a set of exam tables. He watches for a moment as the man staggers to his side, clutching at his bent and cracked armor as he obviously orders someone else to grab him. A gunshot makes him stagger back as it impacts his shoulder. Looking down his eyes widen as the bullet clinks to the ground and his shoulder heals in front of his eyes with a small amount of blood clotting quickly over the wound. 

Glancing to his side, he sees the small light of the sun coming from a skylight above him. So before Iron man can advance on him again, he jumps and starts climbing the debris to get out. A feline like hand wraps around his ankle and almost brings his progress to a halt. Looking down he just catches the toothy smile of the Black Panther before switching back into survival mode. Using one hand to hold onto the ceiling support beam, he uses the other hand to crack a chunk of it off like one would chocolate bar before bringing it down to smack the man off his leg. 

Leaping the last two feet or so, he crashes through the skylight and rolls down the sloped hanger roof before landing in a heap outside the walls of the building. Sprinting faster than he ever thought a human was possible of, he disappearing into the thick woods behind the facility. He runs until the shouting voices behind him start to diminish. Even with the quiet of the forest around him he doesn’t stop running until he finds himself at the edge of a city. 

Taking a step forward he stops in his tracks as he sees the young figure of Spiderman walking in front of him. He’s completely unaware of the test subject standing just feet from him, talking in a downright sarcastic tone to Iron man over through his watch. It confuses him enough to not move as the young man turns to look right at him. Begging some deity that he’d turn invisible, he watches as Spiderman looks right at him and continues talking. Looking down at his hands, he realizes that he can’t seem them. There’s a dim shimmering outline around his fingers and arms, but he doesn’t think the young man can see that. Walking toward him only proves his theory as he waves his hand right in the man’s face and get’s no reaction even to the small noise of his steps. 

Sighing in relief, he takes off in the opposite direction mentally letting his invisible cover fall so that he can see himself again. It’s dark by the time he makes it into the city, avoiding looking at anyone for too long as he makes his way to an abandoned ghetto. Checking a condemned house, he finds little besides garbage and drug needles. Cleaning out one small room, he tucks himself into a corner and just breathes for close to an hour as he takes in what his life has become.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the guard’s wallet and smiles at the bundle of at least three hundred dollars along with a small phone. Opening the news app he sees the smoking lab as the first story. Reports of a secret lab, illegal experiments, and then there’s his face. Dammit, they must have checked the bodies and found out who he was and launched a manhunt. But something bother’s him about his old face. Full of scars and darkened eyes, a picture taken just before the experiments. He can even see the exam table behind his head.

Clicking the phone’s camera on in curiosity, he sucks in a breath at what he sees when he switches to the front facing camera. There’s a faint glow to his dark blue eyes now, not really looking abnormal but more striking. He’s jaw is more defined and muscular than it used to be even before the explosion. His face has shifted so much into what looked like a man that they’d put on war posters that he doesn’t think he’d be recognized based on the picture they have of him from before. Reopening the news app, he gets flashed an alert for a new video from Iron man, Tony Stark himself.

_“The public should consider him highly dangerous yes. We’ll be working nonstop to find him, you can be sure of that.”_

Shivering at the statement and the cooling air, he hugs his knees to his chest and turns off the phone. He doesn’t sleep much that night, getting up just as the sun rises to search for somewhere to eat. Sliding into a fast food burger place, he standing in line and tries to act normal. As much as he can when he feels like a fugitive in his own country. Ordering a couple burgers, he retreats to the back of the restaurant to eat them with his back against a wall and the two exits in sight just in case. 

Scott’s halfway into his second burger, his hunger fierce now as he gets the urge to look up. Coming through the door is none other than Spiderman and Antman out of their uniforms. Swallowing the panic that threatens to make him sprint out of the building, he takes a deep breath before looking back down at his food. Anxiety clawing at his ribs as he realizes that he’s still in the same clothes that he escaped in.

“I can’t believe you like this kind of food, we literally have personal chefs at the tower.” Lang says, shaking his head as they wait at the back of the long line.

“Tony always makes me eat healthy, and besides we’re supposed to be patrolling the streets anyway.” The younger man explains, looking over the menu with eager eyes.

The line is slow and that gets the men looking around to keep themselves busy. He can tell the moment that the young kid’s eyes land on him, a subtle hand tapping the older on the shoulder. Now both the men are subtly looking at him as Lang pulls up his cell phone to make a call. Getting up as calmly as he can, he throws away his garbage before pushing open the glass door. His newfound strength surprises him as the door swings open fast and the glass shatters against the wall outside the building.

Sprinting off as he hears two pairs of feet chasing after him, he grabs the sides of the wall and turns himself into a dark alley in hopes of losing the two men. Suddenly something sticks wraps its way around his ankles and legs and he goes down like a bag of bricks. Turning around he sees the young man’s determined stare as he shoots more webs to hold him as the rest of the Avenger hurry over to this part of town. 

Ripping off the webs, he gets to his feet and grabs the edge of a large metal dumpster. The metal crinkles around his fingers like a soda can as he picks it up and throws it toward his attacker. The young man yelps as it almost crushes him, succeeding in getting up onto the wall as he watches the man run around the corner and disappear. Hiding behind another dumpster, he takes a deep breath and turns himself invisible as the pair run by.

Cursing in his mind as they stop just a few feet from him, he hears the telltale jets of Iron man as he lands with a thump in front of the two. Captain America, the Black Panther, Antman, Rhodes, and Hawkeye not far behind as they slide into the alley. If he wasn’t in fear of his life ending, Scott would actually be a mess of emotions at seeing so many of his icons at once like this. 

“Where is he?” Tony asks, with a snap in his voice looking around like everyone else.

“I don’t, he just disappeared.” Lang says, scratching his head as he joins the others walking around the alley pulling open garbage cans and dumpsters.

“Alright, fan out in this area of the city and turn over every stone. Let’s go.” Iron man says, shooting up into the air as the rest of the team nods and leaves the alley. 

Sighing in relief, he allows himself to become visible as he just breaths and shakes in the aftermath. He knows he should start running, but he just needs to sit for a minute, just a minute.

“Finished running?” A man says above him.

Looking up with what most be the most pathetic expression he’s ever given anyone, he see that gleaming red, white, and blue shield just feet from him. Holding it is a downright smug looking Captain America leaning against the wall across from him. He’s shaking visibly as he inches to his feet and looks down the alley for an exit. The captain hasn’t moved from his relaxed position, eyes trained on his every move though.

“What do you want?” Scott asks, finding his voice and staying put even though each moment that passes could mean another Avenger getting closer and trapping him.

“I want you to surrender yourself peacefully to the Avengers. That lab you were in was experimenting with previously lost data about my own transformation. It seems it worked on you.” The man explains, taking a step forward as he holsters his shield on his back.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” He asks, the urge to run growing as he hears another set of footsteps coming down the alley.

“What the hell Rogers, grab him.” Tony yells, pointing at the man in question.

“Stark no, stop…” Rogers tries to yell back, but the gets are already firing on the man’s suit.

In flash he deflects the man’s metal fist and slams him through a wall behind him. He tries to get back up and level a nasty pulse to his stomach only to get thrown into the dumpster beside the broken wall. Keeping an eye on the billionaire, he doesn’t notice Rogers watching him carefully. He’d had a night to look over the file they’d pillaged from the lab on the man. Captain Scott A. T’Perro, a decorated military commander in the Middle East mostly. Injured and discharged only to end up in an illegal research facility he probably felt wasn’t. 

Rogers knew that struggle, having to live as a cripple or getting than chance to become better in every way and get your purpose in life back in an instant. So of course he’d pitied the man when he’d caught that panicked expression as they broke through the doors into the lab. At least he’d had a nation behind him when he’d been transformed. This man had been instantly transformed into a fugitive on the run. If he could just get Tony to calm down and talk to this man, they might have another good Avenger if they could train him.

“T’Perro, stand down.” Rogers orders and the man goes stock still at it, hanging his head as he back away from the man back to his corner by the trash can.

“You gonna do something Rogers or just stand there with your thumb up your ass?” Tony asks, getting up from the crumpled dumpster with a low groan.

“Language Stark. C’mon, I won’t let anything happen to you if you come with us now.” The Captain promises, giving the man an understanding smile.

Against every fiber of his new body, he follows obediently behind the older man with Tony trailing after them. There’s an armored quinjet landing in the street in front of them with some of the other Avengers blocking off the street and getting civilians away. They’re all leveling him with angry and apprehensive stares as she boards the plan. Sitting beside his icon with his stare not lifting from the metal floor. 

“Approaching Stark Tower, brace for landing.” The pilot says a few moments later.

“Just stay close to me, you’ll do fine.” Rogers assures as they land and the door opens. 

There are at least a dozen armed security guards on the helipad along with most of the Avengers. Cap’s hand is a steady grounding force on his back as they through the winding halls of the building. Soon he’s turned into a small apartment with a spacious living room, kitchen, and master bedroom. There’s nothing personal in here, so he assumes it isn’t being lived in at the moment. 

“Jarvis, sync new tenant Scott A. T’Perro. Clearance level beta tango one two. Sit down.” Rogers says, pointing to one of the seats as the small dining table beside the window overlooking a stunning view of the city.

“Sync complete, welcome to Stark Tower Mr. T’Perro. If there is anything I can assist with don’t hesitate to ask.” Jarvis says from his panel on the wall.

“Oh, thank you. What’s going on?” Scott asks, rubbing his arm as his anxiety picked up again.

“Just a talk. Tell me what has changed from before you got the serum, any powers and such.” The man says, signaling Jarvis to take notes.

“Oh um, I got my. I was paralyzed before, I’m stronger now and faster. Uh, I heal quickly, and can turn invisible at will.” He explains, leaning back in the chair with a long sigh.

Rogers asks him for specifics over the course of an hour, comparing the powers they both had since his had come from research data that had made Rogers what he was now. He feels the fatigue start to claw at him from both the procedure and the chase over the last day and a half. The clothes he stole feel itchy with the filth on and under them as he adjusts himself in the chair.

“Well, this is your apartment now. Get some rest and come meet me in the morning. We’ll start your training.” The man says, his mask long removed as he gets up and walks towards the door.

“What?” Scott asks, standing up a little fast.

“Look kid, you’re either becoming an Avenger or getting put down. There’s no in between anymore. So you need training.” Cap says, patting him on the shoulder.

“Me?” He says, a smile breaking over his face at the notion he would get to be one of his own heroes.

“Yes, now eat and get some rest. You’re going to need it.” The man says, smiling back before leaving.

Jarvis walks him through making a meal from the well-stocked kitchen, and it actually tastes pretty good compared to the burger and the hospital food he was dealing with before that. Sleeping comes pretty easy with how exhausted he is, the top of the line bed doing it’s part as well. He’s woken up early that next morning before the sun has even risen outside of the looming windows. 

“Mr. T’Perro, your training session with Mr. Rogers is in fifteen minutes.” Jarvis explains.

Sitting up with a start at that, he rubs his face and swings his legs out of bed. Rummaging through the dresser he finds a pair of shorts and a workout shirt that fits him, some shoes too. They’re tight, but not in a bad way. If he actually gets to stay here then he’ll need to request some clothes that actually fit his new body. He idlily wonders if Rogers had these same issues after he got the serum. Jarvis directs him down hallways and corridors to get to the training center. 

Stepping into the room, he takes a moment to look around. The picture of each Avenger displayed proudly on the walls above him. The room itself is just padded floor and walls designed for close combat training, that much he knows. Rogers is standing at the far end of the padded mat in a pair of blue shorts and a tight-fitting workout shirt wrapping his knuckles in some light workout tape. Walking forward, he takes a deep breath to dispel the anxiety building in his gut as he walks up to train with his idol.

“Captain.” Scott greets, standing a few feet from the smirking man.

Scott doesn’t get any warning before he’s thrown into the padded wall knocking the air out of him momentarily. Looking up, he rubs the spot where Rogers had hit him in the stomach and staggers to his feet as he sees the man walking toward him. He’s somewhat ready for the next punch, deflecting the other’s fist off his forearm with a grunt. The impact isn’t causing him any pain, but the impact is enough warning to watch himself.

“C’mon T’Perro, show me what you got.” Cap taunts and for a moment Scott doesn’t know what to do, this smirking side of Rogers doesn’t end up in the media.

Deep down Scott knows that they’re made from the same serum so they should be equal in strength. Setting his feet, he throws a punch as they dance around each other. Rogers staggers a little as it impacts his shoulder and sensing the opening Scott lands two more before he gets a nasty left hook to his side. It sends him down on one knee and Rogers has now qualms at dishing out the same he got served. Two more punches send him flat on his back clear with a little ache beginning in his shoulders. 

Rolling back to his feet, they dance around each other a little more before taking their punches. Rogers is first, his wrapped knuckles going low to his chest before lashing out at the man’s. Moving back with the impact, he shifts his weight and tacks the Captain around the waist. The roll for a few moments, each fighting for an advantage over the other. He’s starting to sense that he has an advantage in strength over the man below him, but Rogers more than makes up for it in experience and how fast he is. The door opens to the training room, but it goes unnoticed as he feels the man’s thigh clamp over his throat. Swinging his leg up, he manages to distract the man with a knee to the forehead so that he can wrench his neck out of the tight hold. It doesn’t last long, the man’s quick as a viper this close in battle. Scott just narrowly throwing himself out of the tangled mess of limbs and back to his feet.

“What the matter T’Perro, not one for wrestling?” Rogers smirks, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

Not giving the Captain the out of breath response he wants, Scott wipes away his own sweat and takes a few steps back as the circle each other. Rogers gets distracted for a moment looking over at their two-person audience and he takes that opportunity. The older man grunts in surprise as the younger’s fist impacts his jaw, the momentum sending them both tumbling again with each other. Scott doesn’t get much time to gloat before one of his arms is held painfully behind his back and the man’s other arm wraps around his throat. It’s only when his vision starts to get black spots that he taps out and the man lets him flop to the floor.

“That was awesome.” Peter Parker says from beside Tony as they walk up to the sweat soaked pair.

“Eh, I don’t know about that.” Tony mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Scott flop onto his back still panting to get his breath back. 

“He’s got potential.” Rogers says, dropping a towel on the prone man’s face as he wipes off himself with another, a light bruise spreading along his jaw from the good hit.

Scott’s got bruises developing too, but he feels an itching sensation that he felt with the bullet. He imagines that’s what it feels like to have the serum heal him faster than normal. Sitting up, he wipes the sweat from his forehead and neck. Giving Spider, Peter, a small wave.

“Good fight.” Scott says quietly, smiling up at Rogers as he chuckles lightly.

He wonders for a moment if the man usually laughs this much during training. If having someone this similar to him was actually more fun to train against. He was already getting the sense that they would live lonely lives with this kind of power. Hell, he’d dented one of the kitchen stools just by grabbing it this morning. It brought a smile to his own face that he was giving the Captain someone to train with that he knew he couldn’t hurt if he went to hard.

“Take a break kid, we’re just getting started.” Rogers says, and suddenly he gets very interested in taking advantage of the water cooler on the other side of the room.

“So, you’re really like Cap then?” Peter asks, following him so that Tony and said Cap could talk on the other side of the room.

“I think so yeah.” He says, taking a drink of the ice-cold water.

“That’s sweet, he doesn’t really train with any of us because of the power and such. Oh and no hard feels for the dumpster thing yeah?” The kid asks, and he kind of felt bad for making him nervous.

“Yes, sorry about that.” Scott says, rubbing the back of his neck as he drinks another cup of water.

“No problem man, I’ll see you around.” Peter says as Tony calls him, the pair leaving as Rogers takes a deep breath and shakes his head in annoyance.

“Was that conversation about me?” He asks, a weak laugh escaping his mouth as he nurses a third cup of water, offering another to the man who takes it with a grateful nod.

“Yes, don’t worry. Tony’s suspicious of everything and everyone. He’ll warm up.” Rogers explains, sipping his own water.

Nodding, he finishes the water before crumpling the cup and throwing it away. Waiting for the other man to finish his, he braces for another fight as he walks back from the garbage can. Rogers holds up a hand and walks close to him. 

“The army taught you well, but you’re going to need more than that to go against the people we do. Here, lift you shoulder like this. Good, now hit my hand as hard as you can.” Rogers says, picking up a pair of padded target gloves, widening his stance for balance as he hold them up.

Scott blows out a breath before raising his shoulder next to his ear like Rogers had shown him. Letting his weight carry with his punch, he hits the padded surface hard. The man in front lifts an eyebrow at him, an expression that shows he isn’t impressed with the force. Getting back into position, he throws ten more punches with each hand and still gets that disapproving stare. Growling under his breath, he steels himself one more time and throws his right fist hard against the padding with the anger behind it. The force sends his fist through the padded material until it’s touching the heat of the other man’s palm. A smile is added to that eyebrow as Rogers lets his stance relax to look at the damaged glove.

“Not bad, but stop holding back. The enemies won’t.” Rogers says and suddenly he’s flashing back to that hot afternoon in the desert. 

Sands creating a gritty feeling in his teeth as the bomb takes out his hearing. The smirking faces of those men enter his sight as one hold his foot on his best friend’s throat until his flailing body stills against the dirt road. A gentle hand on his shoulder shocks him back to reality and Rogers is looking at him with a mix of concern and understanding. Scott just swallows painfully and nods as that hand slips from his shoulder.

They train for a few more hours before calling it a morning. The praise Rogers gives him sits warm in his chest as he showers in his apartment. There’s some nasty looking bruises spreading over his body, but they don’t hurt like they should. Even poking them barely gives him any sensation. Sighing, he turns off the water and dries off before dressing in some new clothes. Jarvis had apparently sent his measurements to someone who’d gotten him a full wardrobe that now fit. Rogers had invited him to talk about his new self whenever he wanted and he wanted to now. To understand what he was.

“Hey Jarvis, can you message Rogers and asks if we can talk now?” He asks the empty room as he towel dries his hair, getting an affirmative beep from the wall.

“Mr. Rogers will be up in approximately twenty minutes to talk.” Jarvis explains.

Taking a seat in the lightly bent dining chair, he looks out the window over the city. He’d never been to New York, but he was starting to like the energy of the city over his quiet home in Texas. Noise always helped when his thoughts got to loud. He must have zoned out because a loud knock on his door almost startles him out of his seat. Waving to Jarvis, the door slides open and a freshly showered Rogers walks through and joins him at the dining table. His still damp hair is slicked back and he actually looks relaxed for once in a soft looking t-shirt and sweat pants. 

“You wanted to talk?” Rogers asks, and suddenly he blushes because he realizes he was staring.

“Uh yeah, how’d you get used to all of this? The strength, just…” He trails off, rubbing at that blush as he looks at the table.

“It takes a while, you have to learn your limits again. With objects, people, and society. The good news is you have someone with experience in it, I didn’t.” Rogers explains, getting up from his seat.

Scott watches him as he walks around the apartment picking things up and into his arms. Coming back from his bedroom with his arms full of a random assortment of stuff, he drops them onto the dining table. Picking up an orange, he hands it to Scott with an expectant look. Taking ahold of it, his hand shakes a little, flinching as he squeezes a little too hard and crushes the fruit in one motion. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the prickly feeling behind his eyes in check.

“It’s alright Scott, don’t hold your emotions back. Here, just hold it.” The man says, placing an apple in the palm of his hand. 

A tear slips down his cheek at that statement, the understanding behind it. He just hold the apple in his hand, gently passing it back and forth between his hands. Feeling out how much pressure will bruise it. After a few moments, Rogers plucks the apple from him and replaces it with a glass vase. His heart jumps into his throat, but the other man softly encourages him to do the same. Nodding, he starts to notice that his hearing has gotten better because he can hear the moment the pressure gets to be too much for the glass and he eases off. 

“You’re doing good T’Perro, here.” The man says, taking the vase from him and giving him his damp towel in turn.

Playing with the fabric, he almost rips it in half a number of times but thankfully never does. Setting the object down he takes a deep breath. Then something else, another thought pulls at the edge of his worries. How the hell is he ever going to be with anyone like this. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt a friend from patting them on the back to hard, or a lover when they…

“I know exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s hard yeah. But you can learn this people just as easy.” Rogers assures him, putting his hand into both of the mans.

Scott gently squeezes the man’s hand, glancing up every other moment to make sure he wasn’t hurting him. This wouldn’t be the same with an ordinary person though, and maybe he didn’t want someone ordinary for a friend or a lover. An odd feeling stirs in his lower region when he looks back up at Rogers warm and understanding smile. He knew a lot of the man’s own traumatic background, he’d really be the only one that could ever match him in a lot of ways. He stows that feeling though, letting go of the man’s hand with a grateful nod.

“You’ll get used to it, just keep practicing. I have to run to a Stark meeting, but feel free to look around the tower a little bit and get to know your teammates.” Rogers says, smiling as he pats him on the shoulder and takes his leave.

“Mr. T’Perro, your presence is being requested in the medical wing.” Jarvis says.

“Alright, you can call me Scott Jarvis. And what is the medical thing for?” Scott asks, feeling a little apprehensive about being near medical equipment again.

“Acknowledged. It is customary for new members of the team to receive a medical exam prior to starting duty for the Avengers.” Jarvis explains.

Slipping on his shoes, he follows the computers direction again until he finds himself three floors down and on the other side of the building from his room. The familiar smell of a hospital greeting him as he walks up to the front desk. An older man with graying hair greets him with a warm smile and ushers him wordlessly to one of the exam rooms past the waiting room. 

“I’m Dr. Carlyle, nice to finally meet you Scott. I’ve gone over the data Mr. Stark’s team pulled from the lab and I’ll say that I’m impressed that this lab managed to make such an accurate serum to what Mr. Rogers got many decades ago.” He introduced, shaking the nervous young man’s hand as he stripped out of his clothes and dresses in a hospital gown.

“You’re not gonna go anything invasive right?” Scott has to ask, sitting down on the table at the direction of the doctor.

“Of course not, just a scan of your physiology some physical observations. I’m aware of the traumatic nature of your care from the army and that lab. Just let me know if I’m pushing past your limit.” The man says and Scott actually calms down as a machine above him scans from head to toe for a few minutes.

“Your physiology is almost entirely similar to Mr. Rodgers from these scan comparisons. You have a little more muscle mass than him and a few different chemical markers, but largely the same. That means you’ll benefit from us having experience if you get injured out in the field. Bring the gown down to your lap please.” The man instructs, putting away the data pad to put on some exam gloves.

Dr. Carlyle takes him through a number of the same motions as any physical would be. Breathing in and out, mobility tests, and such. Taking a few notes on some of the scars left by the procedure on his arms and legs, but overall gives him a bill of clean health to go on missions and train with the team. Thanking the doctor he makes his way back to his room only to get stopped short by a still annoyed looking Tony.

“Hey Mr. Stark, can I just say that I’m sorry for reacting like I did when we first met. I was scared. Thought I’d be put down for being a lab rat.” He confesses, watching whatever agitation that man carried melt away.

“I understand that now, thank you for the apology for kicking my ass and making me workout dents in my armor all day. You really want to join us then?” Tony asks, walking with him in the direction of the elevator.

“No where else to go, and having the Captain knowing what I’m going through makes all the difference to this change.” He admits further as they both step into the elevator, pushing their respective floor buttons.

“Well, welcome then. You’re under Cap’s wing, so whenever he thinks you’re ready you can join mission.” The older man explains, letting him get out on his floor.

Feeling like he was starting to fit in littler by little, he returns to his room for the evening. Browsing through that data pad for books he might like to read as he boils some pasta for dinner. He feels bone tired and it’s a nice change of pace from the tight ball of anxiety that was usually stuck in his chest. It’s that fatigue that makes him grab a stool and lie his head down on the counter for just a minute.

“Scott, your dinner is just about to boil over.” Jarvis tries, getting no response from the snoozing former soldier.

The computer program turns off the stove and turns down the lights in the kitchen for the man’s comfort. Scott wakes up to a gentle hand on his shoulder as the morning light is starting to warm his back through the windows. Cracking open his heavy eyes, he glancing up to see Rogers equally as warm smile with a hint of mischief. Sitting up he wincing at the ache in his neck, shoulders, and back from sleeping on a marble countertop all night. 

“You wanna train today or rest some more? It says a lot if you just pass out in the middle of making dinner and Jarvis can’t wake you.” The Captain explains, nodding to the pot of water and half cooked noodles on the stove.

“It was long day, I’m ok.” Scott says, getting off the stool with a low groan as he stretches out the tense muscles.

“If you say so, I’m not going to go easy on you.” Rogers assures as he escorts the man down to the training room after he’d changed into some workout clothes.

It takes him a few moments, but eventually he wakes up when Rogers starts swinging at him. A few choice blows waking him right up in the blink of an eye. He knows in the back of his mind that he has more strength on his side than Rogers, he just needs to give himself an opening to use it. So sliding himself onto the balls of his feet, he waits for the other to make the first move. The man swings wide and almost hits his shoulder. Pressing himself close, he gets behind the man and wraps his arm around the other’s neck, taking him down to the ground in one motion. Rogers knows enough CQC that he easily slips out of whatever hold Scott has on him and they’re back on their feet dancing around each other the next moment. There’s a change though, Rogers is watching him closer and learning from what he does. In the back of his mind he knows that’s what this kind of training is for, to learn from their weak points so they don’t get exploited by their enemies.

“C’mon Rogers.” He taunts this time, trying to bait the man into another attack and to his surprise it works.

The older man comes at him strong and just before they impact each other, Scott smirks and turns invisible and moves to the side. Rogers eyes go wide as he’s suddenly falling flat on his face and looking around widely to find his opponent. A sense of guilt curls in his stomach as he sees the worry and look of being lost on the man’s face. With that expression, he materializes beside the man’s feet with an outstretched hand. The smirk the older man gives him startles him as his feet are swept out from under him and he lands hard on his back. The captain is suddenly on top of him and Scott’s fighting between getting free and the intense soreness in his back from sleeping wrong. 

“Concerned for me kid?” Rogers asks, getting up and off the man with a snicker.

“I guess.” Scott kind of snaps back without meaning too, and he realizes it the moment it comes out of his mouth.

“Look kid, the same thing applies as yesterday. But I appreciate you thinking of me and my emotions. Flashbacks happen to me and I won’t trick you again.” The older man promises, helping the other to his feet.

Nodding, he rubs his lower back as they take a break. The soreness slowly diminishing with time and effort from his fingers. He’s never been this muscular in his life and there are new muscles pulling at each other and requiring different rubbing motions to loosen the dense strands. Rogers is watching him distantly, smiling with everlasting understanding at the newness the young man is working through in more ways than would ever be simple.

“Wait until you get hurt the first time, the serum heal well but the wound is going to itch like crazy.” Rogers explains, handing the young man a cup of water to sip.

“Thanks for the advice.” Scott chuckles, sipping the water with a shake of his head.

“Let’s call it a day, I think there’s something you’ll be excited to work on instead.” The man says with a smile that says that he knows something about this something.

  
Following the man in his slightly sweaty workout clothes, they turn into the R&D department a few floors above them. Rogers hand is on his back again, steering him down a slimmer hallway and into a room. In front of him is an advanced suit of armor painted a steel gray with few green accents. It resembles a well-engineered suit of body armor with the slimness that would allow him to move freely in combat. The back of the helmet looking like an old Kevlar model with some electronics stuffed into it and every crevice. A metal face mask with hardened lenses so that he’d be able to see all of his surroundings. The arm of it has a retractable shield that he can use to cover himself. Lying on the table are two other weapons. A modified assault rifle and a pair of specialized pistols painted that same shade of green with energy recoil, meaning he would never need to worry about ammo since they were energy powered.

“You’re one of us now, so we thought it was about time you looked like us.” Rogers says, nodding toward the suit.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he walked forward and touched the cool metal feeling the electronics humming just underneath the armored plating. White lines over the chest plate spelled out the name _Sentinel_ and he had tears slipping down cheeks at the code name his old squad used to tease him with. Always watching over them to make sure they were either taking care of themselves off the battlefield or throwing himself in front of bullets and explosions to protect them over himself. There was even his old patch painted onto the arm and side of the helmet. 

“Thanks, this mean a lot.” Scott says, wiping the tear as he picked up the pistol with a smirk.

“Course, welcome to the Avengers Sentinel.” Rogers says, patting his arm before leaving him with his new toys. 

Over the next few weeks they continue to train twice a day every day and they become good friends as a result. They start training with their armor on to get him used to what it would be like in actual combat. Even moving out to the larger simulation rooms to work on different scenarios the Avenger’s had faced. It’s that third week that their sparing when an alert comes in from the intercom. Scott was in the middle of blocking a blow by the man’s hard shield with his armored forearm when Jarvis announces their needed on the hanger deck to be deployed.

Sprinting side by side, their metal boots thump on the floor as they skid into the elevator. They have to move together as other Avengers get on with them on their way to the hanger deck as well. He feels like a recruit again in that moment, going on his first patrol in the hot Iraq desert his first deployment. That familiar ball of tension curls in his chest as he follows the Captain to the large hanger where Tony was waiting.

A technician hands him his helmet along with his weapons before disappearing to handout gear to someone else. Attaching the rifle to the magnetic lock on his back, he holsters his pistols on his thighs before shoving on his helmet. His visor immediately boots up and highlights the friendlies around him before displaying a briefing of the mission. Turns our Hydra was attacking an island research facility just off the coast with robots and ground soldiers alike. Tony was having them separate into four transports since they had anti-aircraft weapons Hydra had mostly likely taken control of. Tony and hulk, Antman and Spiderman, Captain America and Falcon, and finally Black Panther and him. 

Swallowing his anticipation he walks onto the fourth transport, Rogers giving him a nod as the door closes. The Black Panther, T’Challa greets him with a smile as they take off toward the island. The cockpit is filled with Tony’s chatter to the team as a storm picks up outside. Checking his shield, he braces as the flak starts to detonate around their quinjet. T’Challa curses as one hits their ship and it starts to drop in altitude dramatically. 

“Hold on.” He yells, Scott grabbing onto one of the bars as they impact the ground. 

Shaking the ringing in his ears out, Scott looks over his shoulder to see T’Challa helping the pilot out of his seat. Stepping forward toward the ramp, he levels a kick to door that breaks it open. Dropping the four feet to the ground, he pulls out his rifle and scans for hostiles before waving the other two down.

“Transport four come in.” Tony says, voice coming through clear in his helmet’s radio.

“Here, crashes along the eastern coast but we’re pushing up now.” Scott explains, waving them forward as they make their way towards the chaos of the base, the pilot making his way toward one of the other shuttles that landed on the island.

“Gotcha, we’re going toward the main control center now. It looks like controls for the AA guns are near you two, get on that.” Rogers says over the radio, exertion clear in his voice.

Nodding, he follows the more agile form of T’Challa to the small building on their side of the island. It’s a two-story structure with gray concrete walls projecting it against storms and invaders like them at the moment. Nearly a dozen Hydra soldiers patrol the outer perimeter and who knows how many are inside. They crawl up a small hill overlooking the facility and he lets his visor highlight the enemies in red.

“We’ll flank them and split their forces. You take the left and me the right. We’ll meet at the control room.” T’Challa says, and it’s almost a tone of challenge.

Chuckling under his breath, he crawls back down the hill before sprinting around the left flank of the facility. The first guard isn’t looking at him, he’s actually smoking at Scott comes up behind him and knocks him out with a nasty blow to the head. He repeats the action five more times, knowing that with his strength these men probably wouldn’t be getting back up again. He’s gets to the steps of the entrance a few minutes after T’Challa and the man gives him a smile at it.

“I have the armor, so I’ll go in first.” Scott says, noticing that the radios the soldiers had been carrying have been shouting about not checking in.

“All right Sentinel, I’ll be right behind you.” The Panther says, opening the door quickly as shouts fill the once quiet building.

Scott’s rifle is to his shoulder as the shield deploys to protect him as his fires at the entrenched soldiers. A few bullets bounce off his sturdy armor, but promise to leave bruises with how powerful of a punch they pack. It’s slow going, but they finally make it into the control room that seems empty. Holstering his rifle, he steps into the room only to have the heavy metal doors slam shut behind him cutting him off from his support. 

Looking forward he sees a mean looking robot stand up from behind the consoles and direct it’s blue tinted visor towards him. Throwing up his shield he skids backwards a little as the chain gun of the robots peppers him with tens of bullets a second. As the machine reloads itself and cools downs he runs forward and slams his weight into it. The robot is more agile than he thought, it’s arm clamping around his shoulder as he tries to grab for it’s central processor in its head. The next moment he’s crashing through, not into, but through the thick metal encased control consoles in the room. 

“Hold on, I almost have the door lock.” T’Challa says over his radio as he gets to his feet.

Looking up he sees the screens behind the robot flashing with the deactivation code for the AA guns. Making a choice, he runs at the machine again and just dives under its reach. Smashing in the code and hitting enter, the guns shut down one by one. The victory sounds over the radio as the other Avengers take notice, but it’s short lived by him. One of the machine’s hands clamps on his shoulder again and slams him face first into said console. 

His visor flickers slightly as he rounds quickly and punches the robot in the chest, radically denting the metal and tearing off the arm with the gun with the force of it. The machine’s not giving up though. It throws the man into the hard wall with all it’s force and while he’s down it reveals a two-foot-long titanium blade on its other arm. He can hear other Avengers at the thick steel door now, trying desperately to get to him now that Hydra’s other forces are dealt with. He’s about to push to his feet to avoid the blade when the door get’s blown open stuttering his movement as dust fills his vision. He vividly feels it cut into his armor with its strength and then through his body, the now blunted end of the blade getting stuck as it tries to exit the back of his chest plate, breaking off from the robot’s arm.

Working on pure adrenaline, he jumps to his feet and rips off the robot’s head in one motion as it registers new targets in the room. It slumps to the ground and he stumbles toward the door a few times before having to lean against a wall for support. As the dust clears the pain starts to register as he looks down to the blade sticking out of his abdomen. 

“My friend, come we’ll get you help.” T’Challa says, hauling one of his arms over his slim shoulders as he guides the confused soldier out of the room. 

Falcon appears on his other side and takes his other arm, almost all of the weight of walking off him now. Someone’s yelling for a transport over the radio, but his pulse pounding in his head makes discerning the voice to great of task at the moment. His toes catches on a rock and almost takes all three of them down when he stumbles forward. He actually manages to stand while they wait for the transport to make it’s way across the island from the main base where most of them landed. 

“That was a good fight friend, you did well.” T’Challa commends looking up to the skies as the sounds of engines neared them.

“Got stabbed on my first mission, isn’t very good right?” He mumbles, and he must have done it over the radio because a few people take in surprised breaths.

“You defeated a powerful enemy and completed the mission, better than others.” The Panther assures as the transport land and the ramp drops. 

Falcon helps him into a seat, but goes back to the battlefield. T’Challa waves to the pilot to take them back to the tower as he straps the injured man into the seat. He groans with grit teeth as the man presses against the wound to stem the worry some bleeding. It isn’t a long ride, but it’s longer when there a two-foot blade in your stomach. He’s sweating profusely under his armor and barely staying awake as the quinjet lands in the hanger. Medical personnel rush to him as the ramp drops, T’Challa muttering a prayer in his native tongue as he stands by the pilot.

“Not that I didn’t want to see you again, but not this soon Mr. T’Perro.” Dr. Carlyle says, following his stretcher down the hall and into the elevator. 

One of the nurses takes off his helmet and places it under the stretcher as another fits him with a neck brace just in case. As the metal doors open the push him fast toward the medical bay. He has to close his eyes as bright lights sting his eyes and threaten to increase his nausea. Hands expertly pull off his armor and undersuit to get at the damage below. He mutters an apology to the R&D personnel hauling off the cart stacked with his armor and weapons to repair. 

“Easy, you’ll heal fine from this with help from the serum. We just need to get the blade out and stitch you up a little. Something I didn’t mention, the serum makes pain killers not work and we aren’t sure how long anesthetic will keep you under so be prepared.” The older man says, holding his shaking hand as a nurse injects him with it.

His eyes slip back in his head as he passes out, a nurse monitoring his sedated vitals to warn the doctors when his body worked through them and would wake up. The doctor sprung into action with his heated scalpel, cutting around the wound to carefully work the blade out. It landed with a clang on a metal table as the man worked on stitching up the internal organs and veins with a special thread designed to be used as healing supplements by the serum. He got as far as stitching the abdominal muscles as the nurse called out a two-minute warning for the anesthetic, the man’s vitals climbing again into consciousness. 

“Get another stretcher ready to take him to his room, wash the blade and we’ll see if he wants it later.” The doctor instructs, quickly stitching the skin shut.

Two nurses hold the limp super soldier up as he get’s washed of blood, iodine, and grime. They transfer him to a clean stretcher and wraps his wound just as he wakes up, having to be held down as Dr. Carlyle explains where his is and what’s going on to the confused and pained Avenger. They cover his bare body with a thick blanket and transport him to his apartment, knowing the team liked to look after each other more than stay in the infirmary. Scott would heal in the next day or so anyway with rest and the effects of the serum.

“You understand what you’re to do then?” The doctor asks one last time as Scott’s eyes grow heavy in bed even as the pain barely lessens with the salve they slathered over it.

“Don’t get out of bed unless I’m about to one or two myself. Ask Jarvis to call if I need food, water, or help. I got it doc, thanks.” He mumbles, smiling weakly as he closes his eyes.

Dr. Carlyle waits until he’s snoring softly before leaving the room. He gets to the elevator it opens, revealing the worried faces of Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers. Their eyes widen upon seeing him, filled with a thousand questions.

“Mr. T’Perro is resting in his room, do not disturb him unless he calls for assistance.” The doctor says simply, stepping by them and into the elevator.

Scott wakes up later than night soaked with sweat and needing to piss like racehorse. Rogers had told him healing with the serum was a blessing and a curse. Sure it made them nearly invincible, but it drove their bodies into a fever and made pain medicine worthless. Rolling out of bed onto his hands and knees, he slowly crawls to the bathroom. He thanks some god for his new height because as long as he kneels he can maneuver himself to pee in the toilet without having to stand. Flushing, he barely thinks of going back to bed before he’s vomiting in the white bowl as well. The fever and pain making his head swim and the vomiting making his stomach hurt and so on.

“Jarvis,” He mumbles between dry heaves, “Get Rogers.” 

“Affirmative Scott, Mr. Rogers will be here in approximately forty-five seconds.” Jarvis replies, and not ten seconds later he can hear the man’s bare feet pounding down the hallway.

Rogers finds him slumped over the toilet, spitting the last of the bile into it before weakly flushing. Said man vanishes for a moment and returns with a pair of boxers. Under normal circumstances he’d be embarrasses to be seen vomiting naked like this, but his fever addled mind doesn’t care about modesty at the moment. This miracle of a man manages to get them on him and gently towel off the sweat coating his body. To his confusion he’s laid out on the cool floor and told to stay. Glancing beyond himself, he watches Rogers strip the bed and remake it with clean sheets. The lights on their lowest setting as he does something in the kitchen.

“Alright, I told you this wouldn’t be fun. C’mon we’ll get you in bed and a little cooler hmm?” Rogers says, gently threading his arms under his backs and knees before lifting.

He’s carefully laid back in bed on dry sheets and pillows keeping the blankets off for now, but the fever has already started to come back in vengeance. Watching through blurry vision, Rogers places a thick towel behind his head and under his back and midsection. He shivers a little as a damp hand towel gets laid over his forehead and one behind his head against the nape of his neck. Two more get placed on his chest and just above his wound. The next thing he knows there’s a wet cloth being poked at his dry lips. Opening his mouth he lets the man feed about two inches of it inside, and its then that he realizes that it’s soaked with water that tastes really good in his mouth right now. 

“Cheesecloth soaked in water, easier than drinking right now.” Rogers explains, taking another damp towel to dab his warm arms and face.

Rogers stays for most of the night, re-soaking the cloth for him to suck on and re-wetting towels to cool him down. The room gets noticeably colder and a little humid, allowing the damp towels to be taken away and replaced with a few thinner blankets. He’s snoring as the light of the morning starts to bleed through the windows, Jarvis lowering the blackout curtains to solve that annoyance and let the injured man sleep some more. 

Scott doesn’t wake up until that afternoon, blinking his heavy eyes as his stomach rumbles for food to fuel this expedited healing process of his. He doesn’t have the energy move to do anything about it and he notes how Rogers is curled up a few feet away from him fast asleep. It felt nice to be taken care of, even if his fever muddled most of the memories right now. Lifting an arm that felt like lead, he nudged the super soldier until he sat up abruptly.

“What? Oh, you’re awake.” Rogers says, a little relief in his groggy voice.

“Yeah, would you mind making, food?” Scott asks, toying in his head what hour it was before promptly giving up.

“Of course, how are you feeling?” The man asks, stretching as he got to his feet.

“Much better, thank you for last night.” He says, lifting a hand to grab the remote for the TV.

“You know out of context that could sound really bad.” The older adds, disappearing into the kitchen with a smug smirk.

“Or good.” He muses quietly to himself as he switches on a sports channel.

“I heard that.” Roger’s says after a few minutes, a bowl of steaming soup in his hands.

Smiling weakly, he lets the older man help him sit up against some more pillows before setting the bowl on a pillow on his lap. He eats as they both watch the game in silence. He’s not about to ask the man to leave when he seems so relaxed spending time here, and he doesn’t seem eager to leave on his own.

“You’re a good nurse.” Scott mumbles as he finishes the last bite of his meal, feeling sleepy again.

“I know how bad this feels to go through alone.” Rogers replies, setting the bowl aside.

“Should have just knocking me out for a week, concussion would have healed too.” The younger chuckles.

“Tried it, didn’t work that well. Let’s change your bandages and then you can go back to sleep. I think the worst of the fever has passed.” The man explains, getting up to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

As the bandages come off, he’s surprised to see only a little reddened skin over the stab wound. It even feels better than last night internally, enough for him to sit up under his own power now as Rogers works. Spreading a numbing salve over the area before rewrapping it. Lying back horizontal, he burrows into the excess pillows with a content sigh, the man throwing blankets over him and turning off the TV.

“Call if you need help again.” Rogers whispers, patting his shoulder as he turns to leave the apartment.

“You’re awesome Rogers.” He calls over his shoulder sleepily.

“I know it.” The man laughs, the sound of the door opening and closing before he fell asleep.

Its later that next morning that he manages to pull himself out of bed, limping stiffly into the bathroom to make himself look presentable. Peeling off the bandages, he smiles at the at the bruises that surround the faint white scar on his abdomen. Dropping them into the garbage, he slips out of his boxers and slips into the shower. Groaning in relief as the warm water washes over his stiff muscles, he grabs his soap and washes his greasy hair. 

“Scott, breakfast will be ending in thirty minutes and you’ve been in the shower for thirty minutes as well.” Jarvis supplies helpfully, snapping him out of standing in the warm water smiling to himself.

“Thank you Jarvis.” Scott chuckles, turning off the water with a little hesitation to lose the warmth of the water.

Drying himself off, he standing in front of the mirror to brush his teeth, hair, and shave before wandering back out to his bedroom to get dressed. Throwing on a pair of sweats, a soft shirt, and a tighter fitting sweatshirt, he toes on his shoes before leaving the room. Making his way across the hallways, he ends up in the main rec area that the Avengers spend their free time in. Tony, Rogers, and Peter are eating at the large dining table together and there’s a large skillet of steak and eggs sitting on the stove as leftovers.

“I’m just saying, wouldn’t the power to fly be so much better than running?” Tony asks, and Scott knows that he’s beating the dead horse of trying to upgrade Captain America’s suit.

“You two are awful.” Peter mumbles, glancing up as he see Scott walk in behind the two men.

“Agreed.” He adds, startling the two leaders in their seats as he starts to dish up the leftovers onto a heaping plate.

“Welcome back to the land of the living T’Perro.” Tony greets, that frosty edge of when they’d first met nonexistent now.

“Thanks, who made breakfast?” Scott asks, settling down in the chair beside Peter, across from two older men.

“That would be Steve here, so it’s his fault if you get sick.” Tony explains, thumbing through news reports on his data pad with a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

Smirking at that, he pierces a few eggs and a cube of bite size cut sirloin steak into his mouth. The meal tastes heavenly and he swears Roger’s ear turn a little pink at his obvious liking of it. A super soldier who could cook, it seems like a deadly package in his mind as he eats his meal and the others idly chat together. Before his mind can wander too far into dangerous territory, he slumps a little to forward and winces at the still stiff healing of his abdomen. Tony’s eyes shoot up from his data pad, tracking that wince.

“So, how was the mop up of the island?” Scott asks, noticing the prying question coming his way.

“It went well, left Sam there to supervise the rebuilding and security effort. We also brought that robot of yours in for deconstruction. Learn how it was so effective against a super soldier, maybe even make a training model.” Tony explains, that calculating stare also catching the repressed shudder of facing that machine again.

“I suppose we’ll have to train more Cap, it probably wouldn’t have beaten you.” The younger says softly, getting a confused look from the older.

“Battles are unpredictable, and you won this one. I rewatched the feed from your helmet, you wouldn’t have been injured if we waited to blow the door. You fought just fine.” Rogers says, his voice serious and sincere as a smile graced his worn features.

Nodding, he lets the honest feedback and praise settle in his mind as he finishes the last bites of his breakfast. Peter starts to regale them with stories from high school and Spiderman alike to diffuse the tension. In time both Tony and he head down to the lab to work on a new collaborative project. Scott doesn’t lift his gaze from the empty plate in front of him, but he knows the other super soldier is watching him carefully. Rubbing a hand over his abdomen to ease the ache there, he gets a sigh as the other man puts down his data pad.

“What’s wrong?” Rogers asks, folding his hands together in front of him.

“I’m fine, just thinking a lot.” Scott admits, leaning back in his chair to take the pressure of his stomach.

“I know the feeling, what is the most persistent thought? The older mans asks, smiling like he did in those damned press conferences.

“Uh, do you think I’m ready for this. I mean I was a soldier, a leader. But I don’t know if I can compare to you guys, you know. The whole superhero thing was a dream, not a future job opening.” He explains, eyes not lifting from the edge of the table.

“How did your first mission go when you enlisted? Did you base your whole military career off of it?” Rogers shoots back, catching the other off guard enough to make their eyes actually meet.

A warm smile pulls at his face, remembering his first day as a grunt in Iraq. He’d tripped over a roadside bomb that had been a dud and subsequently questioned every decision in his life as the worked through seven panic attacks in one of the porta potties on base. Every mission after that had mistakes sure, but he grew each time and became more and more effective as a soldier. As a leader. If he’d stopped then, who knows where he’d be today?

“Anyone ever call you an insightful bastard before?” He asks with a light chuckle.

“Language, and yes. Tony has many times with different words. Feel better?” He asks, smiling like a good friend, a good friend.

“I do, thank you Cap.” Scott says, sighing deeply as he looks out the large windows to the raining clouds outside.

“Call me Steve, formalities are for the battlefield.” The super soldier laughs, picking his data pad back up to go over what looked like a briefing

“As long as you call me Scott.” He shot back, smirking as the man’s eyes looked up from his report abruptly.

“Alright, it’s not like I’m going to call you Captain.” The man retorts, shaking his head with that same winning smile as he went back to his report.

Scott lets out a snort at that, anticipating that joke for too long now. They fall into a companionable silence together, getting up to grab a data pad of his own and a cup of Tony’s expensive coffee to sip as he read through headlines. Smiling as he gets a wordy and too polite email from the R&D department about his suit. Five pages of repair specs and three more of augmentations they’ve made to it in an attempt to strengthen it for future missions. The corner of his lip twitches up at the notes at the bottom, Tony’s words and schematics on adding a flight mechanism to it.

“You really don’t want to fly?” Scott ask after nearly an hour, setting down the data pad so Rogers could see him maximizing the picture of Tony’s schematic for his suit to look at parts and how it would work.

“Not to fond of it no, it’s how I ended up buried in ice for decades.” The man says, a tinge of pain that wasn’t physical in his voice.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, going to turn off the screen as the man’s quick hand catches his wrist.

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s an old wound. Makes you remember to live in the moment, not put things off.” Rogers muses, glancing at the schematics with more curiosity than interest.

“Does the serum make you say those things or?” Scott chuckles as the other does, that smile coming back.

It’s the same smile he used to see plastered all over his old comics and war bonds that he’d spent way too much on at antique shows. The one he’d admittedly gotten his first release of pleasure to in his awkward teenage years. To see it smiling back at him in the flesh, in such a warm and friendly way didn’t give him that rush of lust he thought it would. Instead it was a warm feeling in his chest of wanting to touch the man and be touched back in that every complicated dance of loving someone.

“The serum amplifies everything that was a part of you before, I think it made it worse.” The man says, breaking him out of his thoughts with a little bit of a flinch.

“Sounds right.” He replies, clearing his throat and praying to some god the embarrassment he felt wouldn’t show on his face.

Before he can say anything further an alarm goes off on both of their data pads. 

“All Avengers assemble in the hanger bay for priority one mission.” Jarvis calls over the intercom.

“You’re still hurt.” Rogers says, a different tone in his voice as he stops him in his tracks with a hand on his chest just short of the elevator.

“I’m fine.” Scott pushes, not budging the man’s hold on him.

The older man smirks before taking his hand off his chest and for a moment Scott smiles and takes that as approval to join the mission. In the next moment the man is poking him hard in the abdomen with a strong finger. Doubling over in pain, Roger’s keeps a hand on the back of his collar to make sure he doesn’t face plant into the metal floor. Catching his breath, Scott looks up at the man’s smug features with a glare as his collar gets released.

“Point made, be safe ok?” He says, righting himself with a subtle wince. 

“I’ll do my best, you should go sleep more.” The Captain says as he gets into the elevator, giving him a smile before the doors close.

Pepper finds him in the observation room at the top of the tower an hour later. Pressing a heating pad to his bare stomach with his shirt rucked up. Gaze switching between the stormy view and the mission feed coming in through Jarvis on a data pad in his lap. Well those two options and squeezing his eyes shut as the serum worked on stitching the last of his tissue back together, adjusting the heating pad’s temp up to soothe the ache that medicine couldn’t.

“Tea?” Pepper asks, making her steps loud enough to not startle the man with her voice.

“Oh, sure thanks.” Scott answers, taking one of the two steaming cups as the woman takes the other arm chair beside him facing out toward the panoramic windows.

“You care about Steve don’t you?” She asks after he’s done taking a few drinks of his tea.

Scott chokes on air and sets down the tea and data pad before he can break either. There’s a bright red blush spreading up his ears and the back of his neck and he knows it because those areas feel hotter than the heating pad right now. Pepper, bless the woman doesn’t laugh at him, only smiles knowingly. 

“I know what you’re feeling Scott, that fear deep in your stomach having to get those delayed reports. I feel it when Tony goes out too. And if you’re about to say something about teammates caring for each other like this, I can bet my life earning that Clint’s sleeping or training just fine right now being off mission.” She explains, sipping her tea as emotions war over his face.

“Rogers said something about remembering to live in the moment, not putting things off. I don’t think he’s going to want to hear me tell him this though, we’re friends. I’m friends with my childhood icon and hero, I don’t want to screw that up.” He admits after looking over his shoulder to see that the woman had locked down his level for both of their privacies.

“No need to rush it, but to be honest he starting to like you more than a teammate too. That night you got sick from healing, he was basically pacing the hallway waiting for you to call.” She chuckles, watching his ears get redder at the fact that she indeed kept tabs on everything happening in the tower and with the Avengers.

“He probably just likes having someone like him around for once.” Scott says, glancing at the data pad.

“That too, but his mood has improved with you being here in many ways trust me.” She says, looking over from the lightening as the data pad chirped with an update.

His hand shook as he saw the medical icon appear next to three agent’s names at once. 

_Emergency Medical Evacuation Required_

_Send Quin Jets to the following location_

_Black Panther-Multiple impact fractures_

_Spiderman-Bullet wounds and impact fractures_

_Captain America-Major body trauma, bullet wounds, impact fracture, and internal bleeding_

The data pad smashed to pieces in his hands as tears fell onto the lush area rug. Pepper touched his shoulder gently after reading the report herself, cautious of startling him while emotional like this. His breathing starts to come in gasps as the convulsions send pain lancing through his stomach.

“Hey, Scott breathe.” Pepper says, coming around the front of him to cup his tear-soaked cheeks in her delicate hands.

Not trusting his voice, Scott nods and listens to her breathing to measure what his own should be. Once that evens out, he returns his attention to his throbbing stomach that feels like it did when he first got stabbed. Pepper gets him up against his will and walk him toward the elevator. Muttering at Jarvis to turn the heating pad off so it didn’t start a fire or something. They find themselves in Dr. Carlyle’s office, Scott having been pushed into a desk chair as Pepper leaned in the doorway watching the doors to the ER wing of the medical bay. The ones the Avengers would go through as soon as the quinjet landed.

“Just keep it pressed to your stomach, it’ll feel better in few minutes.” Dr. Carlyle assures, placing an electronic pad against the man’s bare stomach that was made to pulse energy that would stimulate and numb the effects of the serum.

“Thank you doctor.” Pepper says, giving the man a grateful nod as he slips by her to get the OR ready for at least three Avengers.

Scott looks up from bouncing his leg against the floor to see a couple gurney’s rush past in the hall. Staggering to his feet, Pepper holds an arm up to halt him. She’s surprised that he stops at all considering their compared strength. Tracking his sorrowful stare, she see Roger’s gurney wheeled through those bright red doors. Blood turning his dark blue suit almost black in color, a nurse pressing that oxygen mask down on his face. The color bleeds out of Scott’s face as he wavers on his feet, Pepper acting fast and grabbing the office chair to shove under him as he falls.

“He’s got the best care in the world right now, he’s also a fighter.” She assures him, grabbing his hand to lay on her should so that he can feel the cadence of her breathing.

“I know, I know.” Scott croaks out, relieved at least that the pain in his abdomen is starting to diminish in it’s intensity, the pain in his head not as much.

“Just relax, lean back and breath. We’ve got a while.” She explains, smiling as she follows her directions.

It turns out to be three hours before someone lightly knocks on the door frame of the office. Scott’s managed to nod off in the chair for close to two hours of that time, Pepper working on her data pad in the doctor’s chair. Looking up she sees said doctor looking tired but smiling all the same as he lifting the hospital blanket she had thrown over Scott before he’d even fallen asleep. With the gentle and calculated fingers only a surgeon could have, he lifts the electronic pad to get a look at the less bruised skin underneath.

“How are the guys?” She finally asks as he replaces the pad and turns the pulses up a little higher before covering him up with the blanket.

“T’Challa was collected by his guard an hour ago and flown home in good condition. Peter is up in Tony’s penthouse being hovered over I’m sure to his disliking. Mr. Rogers is in a recovery room. I wanted to come down and ask if you think Scott would be ok mentally to come sit by him. He’s in a lot of pain and I think a friendly face would help.” Dr. Carlyle explains, smiling sadly at the knowing he couldn’t give pain relief to everyone under his care equally.

“I think it would help Scott to see him, with us nearby.” Pepper adds, getting up from her seat to shake said man’s shoulder.

“What?” Scott asks, leaning forward abruptly as he wakes up.

“C’mon let’s go see Rogers.” Pepper says and he perks up instantly.

The doctor makes short work of wrapping the pad to his stomach before they walk though a series of doors and sanitize over and over before reaching the black metal door of a specialized recovery room. Scott swallows and pushes open the door to realize it was a soundproof room because Rogers pained groans are very vocal. Said super soldier has gauze wrapped around his head and chest, a thick cast around his entire left leg. Blood spotting said bandages as a nurse does her best to calm him down. They couldn’t apply the pulse pads to the man’s body until his heart rate went down. That was a tall order for a man with serious injuries and no use for painkillers.

“Hey, I thought I told you to be careful.” Scott says, his voice surprisingly steady.

“Scott?” Rogers asks, glancing up before another throb of pain has him whining.

“I’m right here take some deep breaths I know it hurts. As soon as you calm down they can control your pain.” He says softly, grabbing the hand that was busy bending the metal of the hospital bed to clasp in one of his.

“Do you know how hard that is, after a building lands on you?” The man snaps, and his eyes go wide considering the man has never snapped at him.

“I don’t, but look at me Steve.” The man bristles a little after hearing his first name, attention now on the younger in a non-combative way.

“Breathe with me, c’mon I know you can do it.” Scott says, grabbing that shaking hand to hold to his chest.

Scott takes a deep breathe in with his mouth open so that Rogers can plainly see it. After a moment to man copies him and breathes out when he does. The younger keeps at it until he feels a little dizzy with how overemphasizes his breathing is. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor quieting as Steve starts to relax with all of his attention focused on the other. While the super soldiers are distracted with one another Dr. Carlyle peels back the blankets and starts lying pulse pads over the worst of the man’s injuries. Turning them on, they watch Rogers eyes lids grow heavy as all of his vitals even out. 

“The pads have a better effect on him then you by the way, side effect of that slight deviation in the serum.” The doctor explains, smiling as he layers blankets over the man to keep him warm as the blankets and serum worked their magic.

“Great, so it won’t be as easy when a building gets dropped on me then?” Scott says, shaking his head as he takes the hand on his chest and just holds it, finger on the pulse point to calm his own heart.

“Tony’s medical division is working on it, don’t worry.” The doctor says, checking over the super soldier’s vitals one more time before leaving the trio alone in the now quiet room.

“Told you he’d be fine.” Pepper says, sliding a chair under him.

“I know.” He whispers, watching the involuntary twitches of the man’s face as he sleeps.

“Call if you need something.” She says, patting his shoulder before leaving the pair to themselves.

With his right hand still holding Roger’s left one, Scott lying his head on his left forearm on the bed and watches the gentle rise and fall of the man’s chest under the blankets. The man’s hand securely in his grip as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t realize he’s passed out until there’s a gentle hand with clumsy fingers running over his scalp. Cracking open his eyes just a fraction, he sees Roger’s vulnerable expression smiling back at him.

He knows that with all the trauma the man isn’t going to be the most observant or on his toes right now. Meaning he can stare back at the man through that small blurry window for as long as he wants. Rogers smile is a different one this time around, not that winning poster smile or friendly laugh smile. It’s a fond, soft smile that one directs at a loved one. It melts Scott’s heart and suddenly a smile slips across his face against his will. To his credit Steve stutters in his scalp massage for only a moment before thinking that he’s smiling in his sleep and continuing. He closes his eyes again to just take in the attention for as long as he can, pretending that this is normal for them.

“Oh looks who’s awake.” Pepper greets as the door opens and closes.

He almost curses the woman to hell and back, but even in her presence Steve is still running his fingers though his hair. It makes him wonder what conversations Rogers and she have had about him in the recent past. Nevertheless his sleepy smile only falters briefly before basking in that attention again. Hearing Pepper drag a chair over to the other side of the bed and pop the lid off something smelling like tea.

“Spying on me?” He asks, his voice a little stronger now that his pain is under control, but still with a tired lit to it.

“Always Cap, how are you feeling?” She continues, sipping her own mug of tea and nodding to the man to drink his.

“Better, pain’s under control which is all I ask for. Everything will start itching in a few days, so counting the minutes until that happy time.” Rogers explains, knowing the doctor was keeping down his fever too since he was in no position to sleep it off in his own bed like Scott had.

“That’s good, how long has he been asleep?” Pepper asks, a knowing smile on her face as the older man blushes a little but doesn’t retract his hand as he sips the warm liquid.

“I don’t know, at least an hour. Did you, tell him?” Rogers asks with a little bit of nervous tone in his voice.

“He was worried about you, brooding in the observation room because he wasn’t on the mission. I might have let it slip that you like him. If it’s any consolation I confirmed that he feels that same way about your ancient ass.” She says and now the man’s fingers are stuttering in his hair.

“I wanted to tell him. It was going to romantic and everything, bring back the good days.” Steve whines returning to his petting of the other super soldier.

“He’s asleep still Steve, you can still confirm it to him yourself later.” Pepper says, smiling as the older man relaxes slightly.

Letting them talk for a few more minutes, he makes a little show out of waking up. Groaning under his breath and flexing his shoulders as he cracks open his eyes. The man’s hand had gone back to his own chest from his hair at his first noise he’d made. Schooling his face back into it’s emotional walls, but keeping friendly as their eyes locked. He blushes a little as he wipes the drool from his chin and forearm with his sleeve and sits up in his chair.

“Isn’t that a handsome sight?” Pepper comments with a smirk as he glares at her.

“Yeah, yeah. Steve, you look better.” He comments the very embodiment of innocence as lifts up his shirt to check his stomach.

The pulse pad is still thrumming strong against it and lifting it he see the bruises have lessened from black and blue, to green and yellow. The internal pain has dulled too, manageable enough to turn off the pad and set it aside on the floor for the moment. Lowering his shirt, he just catches their concerned stairs before they turn them to smiles.

“Feeling better, thanks to your breathing exercises.” Steve says, and that war bond smile is back.

“Good, maybe you should have let me come with.” Scott replies and suddenly the air in the room turns tense.

“You are hurt,” Steve says, eyes landing on the pulse pad on the floor, “The battle would have pushed you too far.”

“C’mon you two, settle down.” Pepper tries, but Scott’s already on the defensive.

“Too far huh? What happened to fighting just fine last time? I’m a soldier Captain, a stomach bruise wouldn’t have mattered.” He fires back, standing up from his chair abruptly to pace away from the injured man.

“I’m that one that oversees you, is responsible for you T’Perro. You’re not going back out until I say so.” Steve says and it’s obvious this is the hill he’s chosen to die on based on emotion more than logic.

“Go to hell Rogers.” Scott says slamming open the door before leaving with clenched fists.

Scott blows past the concern of the doctor and into the elevator with his thoughts racing. His temper never used to flare like that, he had one such but. Wait, serum, magnifies, everything. Suddenly he feels the familiar flare of heat up and down his spine that usually came with his temper. Slamming the ground floor button hard enough to smash the control panel, he squeezes his eyes shut as the elevator starts to descend. 

His temper used to get him in plenty of trouble when he was normal, there was no telling what Sentinel Scott’s temper would be like. Fast walking through the lobby, he makes it out to the secure grounds of the Stark compound before he runs. He turns corners like he did dodging the Avengers back in the city until he slams his way into a hanger on the edge of the base. It’s full of ammunition boxes and crates, but it’s thankfully empty of anyone that could rile him up any further. 

Picking up a pallet of mortar shells, he sets it down in front of the door before walking to the center of the room. Lifting himself up to sit on a pallet of wooden crates, he closes his eyes and tries his best to calm himself down. He’s almost got his heart from pounding in his ears when someone crashes through the hanger doors. Snapping open his eyes, he looks straight at Ironman pointing a pulsar at his head and holding what he realizes is a sedative needle in the other.

“Just come quietly T’Perro, it’ll be ok.” Tony tries, opening his helmet and everything to try and placate the super soldier in front of him.

“If you go away, it’ll be.” Scott tries, even though he knows that the man won’t back down that easy.

“Can’t do that, just come here.” The man says, stepping two more steps into his personal space.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you.” He tries again, taking a couple steps back only to hit a wall, the flare of his spine threatening to override the logical part of his mind.

Tony lunges at him and suddenly his world goes black. He dreams of familiar voices and loud overwhelming noise until suddenly the world is bright and real again. Sitting up abruptly makes his wrists and shoulders ache. Looking down he realizes he’s cuffed to a hospital bed with restraints made of some high-grade mechanized metal. He’s stripped down to his underwear and covered with a thin white sheet, his ankles and legs restrained as well. The room around him doesn’t even have a window and what looks like a thick metal door locking him in. The gravity of not remembering anything but Tony flying at him in the hanger makes him shrink down in the bed.

“Jarvis, where am I?” He asks, his voice small and scared even to his own ears.

“Scott, you are currently in a containment cell on the lower basement levels of the tower. It is good to here you awake and aware sir.” Jarvis says and suddenly the restraints unlock around him.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rubs his wrists as he stands. Grabbing a bathrobe folded on the corner of a medical cabinet, he flinches at the empty sedative syringes piled on another part of the counter. Tying the robe around his waist, he walks up to the sealed door and takes a deep breath. One hand coming up to rub the tender side of his neck where those needles must have gone.

“Jarvis, can I go back to my apartment?” He asks, hand settling on the door’s surface.

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark and Dr. Carlyle have deemed that action unwise at the moment given the damage you did to him and the base.” Jarvis explains, pulling up a scan of a least three damaged building and a destroyed suit of Ironman armor.

“Tell him I’ll stay in the apartment.” Scott whispers, grunting as he pushes open the door by force and walks toward the elevator.

True to his word, he sitting with his knees hugged to his chest with blankets around him on his couch looking out at the sunny sky when his door opens. He’s to tired to feel defensive at the moment, but the fear in his eyes is clear when Tony, Pepper, and the doctor walk into his living room. Tony looks angry to say the least, limping a little in his step. Pepper on the other hand sits next to him without a thought as the doctor runs a few scans on his vitals.

“I’m sorry.” He says first, curling impossibly further into his protective cocoon as Pepper rubs the area between his shoulders.

“Yeah, you should be.” Tony snaps and suddenly there’s a new bruise blooming on his forehead from the metal coaster Pepper took off the side table and threw at him.

“Shut it Stark, he was calming himself down and you pushed to far. What happened in the hospital, why’d you leave?” Pepper asks, gently catching his hand as he brings it out of the blankets to pull them tighter around himself.

“I had, have a temper. The fight with Cap revved it up and I think the serum made it different like everything else. I don’t remember what happened.” He admits, shaking as the woman squeezes his hand.

“Ok, you reacted to Tony approaching you. Broke a few walls and such, nothing major.” She starts, shushing said man as he starts to say something they’ll all regret.

“I lost control.” He whispers, curling his shaking digits around her hand.

“You’re still learning Scott, we’ll train it. Just catch your breath right now, get your bearings.” Pepper continues, gently peeling his blanket off his head and down to where it would rest around his waist.

Nodding slowly, he leans slowly into her space but immediately thinks better of it when Tony levels a glare at him. Pepper shoots him a matching one, and the man suddenly decides to leave the two alone if he wants to keep enjoying his girlfriend. The woman wastes no time in wrapping a slim arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. It doesn’t take much for the tears that had been collecting in his eyes and the tremble in his jaw to break through the flimsy walls he’d been trying to throw up.

It’s pretty much the first time since he’s let down those walls since the lab and it’s ugly. Snots and tears dripping down his face as he just about wails into her shoulder. He’s hyperaware of holding back his strength, fisting the material of the blanket instead of her. She gently rubs his trembling back and whispers reassurances that calms his pounding heart. After what feels like a lifetime, he sobs stutter into ragged breathing.

“You are Steve annoyingly alike.” Pepper sighs, gently letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she leans over to grab something.

“He cry on your shoulder a lot?” He mumbles, voice raw and quiet.

“That’s not for me to say. You know it took a lot for me to keep him in bed when you ran off, I’m sure he’d appreciate another chance to fix that last conversation you two had.” She says, patting his shoulder before rubbing up and down his upper arm.

“I was awake when you two were talking before, he smiled at me so fondly. Pepper, did I screw this up?” Scott asks, tremors in his voice.

“No Scott, you’re both just stubborn and new at all of this. Like I said, collect yourself and we’ll do down there.” She says, patting his shoulder again as he wipes his face with the hand towel she gave him.

His heart rate picks back up at the thought of seeing the man again. That sentiment is quickly dashed by the tender fear still simmering in the back of his chest. Fear of what might happen between them in the good and bad scenarios running through head a million miles a minute. He doesn’t want to stress the man with another possible argument so soon or say something he’ll regret. There’s a magnetic pull though to come see the man, to just be in the same room.

“He should rest, I don’t want to go up there and have him see me like this. Especially while there’s still a chance I could lose it again.” Scott whispers, sitting up and breathing deep.

“You’re going to see him, end of discussion.” Pepper says, getting up from the couch.

In the next moment a thick bundle of clothing is thrown in his face by the woman. Putting them on as she takes plenty of interest in his bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter, he grabs a new thick hoodie adorned with his sentinel logo from the hook by the door to throw on before following her like a scolded puppy. The ride down the elevator is filled with silence, the doors opening to the medical floor. Rubbing his arm, his nervous tick it seems, he follows her through the sterile corridors until they reach that familiar black door he’d run from.

“Stay.” She orders, pointing to the spot he currently standing in.

“Ok.” He replies, watching her carefully push her way into room, just catching a glimpse of Roger’s hopeful expression.

He shuffles in place for the ten minutes that Pepper is presumably briefing the Captain about him. A smile tugs at his lip, mostly because she’s probably also telling him what he can and shouldn’t say. The poor woman, trying to coordinate two stubborn super soldiers that are hopelessly drawn to each other. Probably her biggest project to date with the most complicated moving pieces. He broken out of his stupid smiling when she taps him on the forehead.

“Go easy on each other.” She says, patting his shoulder before subsequently shoving him through the door with strength she shouldn’t have.

The slam of the door and the subsequent clicking of the lock on the other side effectively cuts off his means of escape. Turning away from the door, he looks up to see Rogers smiling warmly up at him. Sparing a glance lower than his face and bandage covered chest, he sees the man’s fist curled in the blankets. Breathing deep, he walks up to the side of the bed and sits down in his chair. Chewing on his bottom lip before lifting a hand to let those fingers curl around his own instead of the abused fabric.

“I’m sorry for storming out, you shouldn’t have to see my temper.” Scott starts, his voice soft as he does his best to keep his eyes at least on the man’s chin.

He’s surprised when Rogers doesn’t respond right away. The normally collected super soldier out of time furling his brow and clearly thinking over what he’s going to say next. There’s a line of tension in the man’s forehead and jaw that has nothing to do with his injuries. Squeezing the man’s hand, he gives him his best winning smile as he waits for his thoughts to make it to his mouth.

“I don’t know to say this to a guy, I’ve never really said it to a girl.” Rogers replies finally, that muscle twitching in his jaw as he considered his next words.

“I’m all ears Steve.” Scott says with a smile, rubbing his thumb over the back of the man’s hand.

“Pepper already spoiled it, but I really care about you. Like more than partners on the battlefield.” He admits, one hand coming to scratch at the edge of his bandages just below his collar bone.

“Yeah, well me too Steve.” He admits back, watching the other’s eyes widen a fraction.

“About damn time.” Pepper say from just outside the cracked open door, smirking before shutting it again, her footsteps fading down the medical wing halls.

Laughing so hard that he has to put a hand to his aching stomach, he looks up to find similar tears of laughter in the other man’s eyes. Getting an urge of confidence in his chest, he stands up from the chair still holding the man’s hand. Leaning forward, he cups the man’s strong jaw with his hand feeling that muscle twitch under his palm. Pressing his softer in comparison lips to the man’s chapped ones, probably from the oxygen, he lets his eyes slip closed.

The kiss is slow, their lips dancing in a gentle embrace of not much experience between the pair of them. It gets deeper and more coordinated the longer it goes on. Learning each other’s mouths and small noises that came with each minute movement. They finally separate with a gasp of breath between them, cracking open their eyes to just stare at each other for a moment.

“I didn’t expect that, but I liked it.” Steve adds, that boyish tone to his voice from when they taunted each other in training bleeding through.

“I should let you rest more.” Scott says, pulling away only to have the front of his hoodie grabbed by the man.

“One more, then I will.” The man promises, and god now he has to deal with Captain America’s puppy dog expression.

“Fine, we should probably keep this to ourselves for a little yeah?” He says, leaning back in for another warm embrace of their lips. 

“I’ll keep you all to myself any day, I’m tired.” He says, head lulling to the side with deep yawn.

“Get some rest then.” Scott says, kissing his forehead before tucking him in.

Another mission comes down the line the day Rogers is let out of the hospital to recover in his own room. Scott’s grateful for the helmet obscuring his face as he sits in the quinjet as Tony, Natasha, Peter, and Rhodes walk on. Steve’s spare dog tag is hanging beside his own between his shirt and the undersuit padding. The missed chance to help him up the elevator and into bed to probably cuddle all day watching movies the man still hadn’t caught himself up on weighing heavily in the back of his mind.

“Good to have you back Sentinel.” Natasha smirks, patting his armored shoulder before strapping herself in next to him.

“Good to be back. What’s the crisis today?” He asks, thinking of Steve’s smile one more time before turning his mind completely to the task at hand.

“Terrorist cell on a tanker full of enough explosives to level a small city. We’re intercepting and seizing the ship and the cargo. These guys have some of my old weapons, so mind getting shot.” Tony explains, messing with something on the wrist of his suit as they take off.

As it turns out, Tony was pretty good at designing effective weapons back in his hay day. He’s in the middle of taking the engine room of the ship when something cuts through his thigh. Grunting, he spins around and lands five heat shots in five seconds. Pressing his rifle tight to his shoulder with his shield up as he looks around for other enemies. Turning back, he attaches a Stark made control device to the electronic systems of the engine controls.

“Sentinel here, engine is ours.” He calls, switching off his radio as Tony confirms it back to him.

Turning back and setting weight on his right leg is his second mistake of that mission, stuttering as pain lances up his hip and he stumbles into a support beam for balance. Looking down he sees rivets of dark red blood sliding down the green of his armor. Grabbing a medical syringe from his thigh holster, he stabs it into the lighter armored spot in his hip. The resulting meds blurring his vision for the moment before sharpening his senses, sealing a temporary capsule around the wound so he could deal with it later.

“Avengers report to the main deck, we have incoming boarders looking to take their toys back.” Spiderman calls over the radio.

Shaking his head, he jogs lightly up there to meet the assembled team. They’re in the middle of a firefight with no less than fifty armed and armored terrorists. Kneeling next to Natasha, he pulls his rifle up and starts picking off enemies with ruthless efficiency. As their enemies numbers start to falter they get desperate. He spots the soldier crawling along their left flank the moment he lifts his weapon, shoving Spiderman out of the way as another painful sting registers in his stomach. Falling behind cover, he shoots the man in the head before landing on his back with a thud. Looking down he notices the residual medication forming another protective layer over this wound and goddammit that just healed.

“Sentinel, you ok?” Natasha asks, shooting a few more flankers on their right.

“Just peachy.” He grunts, getting to his feet.

The fighting gets harsher before fizzling out in a rush of Stark made lasers. There’re all beaten, bruises, and bleeding from cuts or in case gunshot wounds. He does battle with Dr. Carlyle’s disappointed eyes behind a surgical mask and his strong nurses after getting back. Three bullets pulled out of his stomach and one out of his thigh. Turns out he had the good luck of having it knick his femur, so even more weeks of ordered rest to allow the serum to fix it and his muscles. 

He decides the last fight of his pitiful day is convincing said doctor to let him recover in his room as well as take a shower. Succeeding in both, he doesn’t stay to test that success. Making it as far as the training room showers before he gets tired of the smell of residual iodine and blood on his skin. Stripping out of the hospital scrubs, he throws them into the garbage before grabbing a spare pair of clothes from his locker. Setting them on the bench just outside one of the shower stalls, he steps inside and closes the door. 

Limping behind the curtain, he turns on the water and just lets it wash over his abused body for a few minutes. Jarvis turns down the bright lights a little and dispenses shampoo into his hand when he holds it under the wall sensor. He makes it as far as washing the conditioner out before a light knock sounds on the door to the stall. Flinching, he has to spend the next minute wiping soap out of his eye.

“Hey, I’m just gonna set this waterproof chair inside your stall. Doc said you might need it. Plus I’m guessing you want to just sit and let the water run over you after today. It’s what helps me, thanks by the way, for taking that bullet.” Peter says, his stall clicking open for a moment as something gets set down on the tile before closing again.

“Thanks Peter.” Scott says just over the sound of the running water, reaching a shaky hand out to grab the plastic chair with metal legs.

“No problem.” The young man says, leaving him the sole occupant of the showers once again.

Sitting down with a grunt so that the back of the chair is against his chest, he stretches out his leg with a sigh. Leaning forward over the chair as the warm water runs over his back. He closes his eyes and lets Jarvis layer on some soapy water like a car wash before turning back to regular, purified warmth. The A.I. gives him the thirty-minute timer and then the forty-five minute one before the shower door opens again.

“Scott, you ok in there?” Steve asks, knocking lightly on the stall door.

“Y-yeah, hard to get out once you’re in right?” He chuckles, turning off the water.

Taking a deep breath, he shakily gets to his feet. Grabbing the towel off the stall hook, he wraps it around his waist before stepping out of the stall itself. Steve’s waiting there with a warm smile, dressed in a loose-fitting pair of black track pants and a long sleeve blue shirt. All he wants to do is fall into those strong arms, but his leg only lets him get as far as bench. The man to his credit acts cool under the pressure and collects another towel to dry him off with. 

He notices his clothes are gone, only the pair of boxers and one of Steve’s favorite blue striped robes sitting in a neatly folded pile. Suddenly that pair of strong arms is putting on those underwear and wrapping that robe around him. A tentative kiss to his temple as Steve disappears to throw the soaking towels in the wash cycle. 

“Your or my room?” Steve asks simply, sitting beside him on the bench.

“Yours?” Scott asks, a little bit of nervousness in his voice since they’ve never really been together in each other’s space like that.

“Alright, Jarvis is the way clear?” The man asks, a gentle hand resting on the small of his fleece covered back.

“Yes Captain.” The A.I. replies.

“Good.” Steve says, his other hand curling under his knees and suddenly he’s being lifted against the man’s chest, his cheeks heating up along with his neck and ears.

“No.” He tries, only getting a chuckle from the damn man.

Resting a hand on his bandaged stomach, he only looks up from the man’s chest when they enter his apartment. It’s tidier than his own, but it has many more personal effects strewn around the floors and counters. He gets deposited in one of the lush bed that graces all of the Stark rooms. A gentle hand coming up to undo the chain around his neck to set on the bedside table. Both of their dog tags clinking together as the chain pools around the metal.

“How are you Scott?” Steve finally asks, kicking off his shoes to lie down next to him.

“Good now, smells like cinnamon in here.” Scott muses, and he’s starting to think that whatever Dr. Carlyle injected him with is the best thing Stark medical has come up with in a while.

“Doc said they were trying out a new pain drug, guess it works. C’mon, lay down and rest.” The older man whispers, pulling the blankets over his shoulders.

“Hold me? I mean, stay?” He mumbles, eyes growing heavy.

Laughing under his breath, Steve strips down to his briefs before climbing under the covers next to him. Waving at Jarvis to shut off the lights, the windows opening to reveal the starry sky beyond with the city lights filtered out. The older gently wraps his arms around the younger’s shoulder and drags him over. Lying on his back as Scott curls around him with his cheek pressed just below his pectoral, an arm slung over his hip. 

Steve smiles, running a gentle touch over the bandages on his partner’s stomach. Said man is fully asleep now, snoring lightly against him. Giving him this time to catalogue every dip and curve of where his skin peaks out from the robe for a hopeful future use. Just getting to see him vulnerable like this, being able to touch him like this, it’s a dream come true. He falls asleep peacefully for the first time in many decades.

Only to be woken up at a time that feels too early even for him. Squinting at his old clock that reads a one in the morning, he sighs and looks around for what woke him. The spot beside him is still warm with body heat, but empty of the man that should be there. He gets his answer as soon as he hears painful retching from the bathroom, a dim light shining under the door. Getting to his feet hastily, he almost trips over the discarded bathrobe beside the bed. Pressing the door open, his stomach falls a little as he finds Scott hunched over the toilet.

“Pain meds need some tweaking or is this a fever?” Steve asks, kneeling down next to the man as he spits bile into the water.

“I don’t know, maybe both?” Scott mumbles, holding one hand securely to his stomach, red splotches present on his thigh bandages.

“The doc can check you in the morning, for now let’s get you back to bed.” The older man says, placing a kiss on his sweaty forehead and reaching over to flush.

“Lying down hurts.” He says, grabbing the man’s arm as it goes to wrap around his back to lift him.

Nodding, Steve gently helps the man to his unsteady feet. Scott protests a little at getting abruptly deposited on the couch in the separate living room, whining even more when that man that deposited him goes back into the bedroom. The man comes back with a fond shake of his head, arms full of a couple pillows and blankets. The Captain gently lifts his partner into the oversized reclining loveseat Tony had designed for his size and tendency to break normal things. 

Scott hums in approval, especially as a pillow is shoved into his arms and the blanket carefully layered. His smile broadens as Steve slips into the space behind his back, curling his arms around him. The younger’s head lulls against the puffy back of the chair, his body torn between pressing back into the heat of the toned chest behind him or curling around the pillow that probably costs more than his first car with how fluffy, cooling, and supporting it is to his injuries. Steve solves that issue for him by pulling him firmly against that warm chest before reclining the chair back to take the pressure off all of his aches.

“This better?” Steve asks softly, kissing the back of his neck just below his well-groomed hairline.

“Much better, didn’t think you’d have such luxuries.” Scott mumbles, adjusting his hips on the chair before sighing in contentment.

“One of Tony’s few gifts.” He replies, closing his own eyes as he feels the last evidence of consciousness fade from the man’s body into soft snores.

“Sleep tight.” He whispers, closing his own eyes for hopefully the rest of the night, morning.

Every time he sleeps with Scott he winds up sleeping in, that’s what Steve is starting to realize. The clocks on his microwave is shining half past noon in bright green numbers by the time he cracks open his eyes. Said man still cozy in his lax arms, one of which is delightfully numb. The smaller than Stark-normal television playing a football game with the volume off. Waking up a little more he realizes that a muscles are twitching beside the man’s left temple, his eyes flickering back and forth watching the players battle for the win.

“Morning Scott.” Steve whispers, curling his fingers lightly over the man’s hip. 

“Huh, oh it’s afternoon dummy.” Scott replies, tilting his head to the side a little to catch the glint of humor in the older man’s eyes dull blue eyes.

“I know that, seems to be a side effect of sleeping with you close.” He says, rubbing that hand up the man’s side and back down to the rise of his hip.

“I’ve noticed.” The younger replies, a smile in his tone.

“You feel ok? Do we need to talk to the doc about that nausea?” Steve remembers, sitting the chair up a little.

“He visited at nine, gave me a nice dose to counteract and cancel the effects. Back to the drawing board I guess, still got the backups though.” Scott says, reaching back to grab the man’s hand, setting it on top of the thick pulse pads covering his stomach and thigh.

“Better than nothing, here lie back.” The older says, slipping out from under him to gently let him have the whole chair.

Steve gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. He comes back to his partner cursing under his breath as what must be not his team getting another touchdown to extend the already hefty lead. Toweling off his hair, he cracks his neck before heading over to the kitchen intent on making himself and maybe Scott some sandwiches for lunch. He’s halfway thought separating two pieces of troublesome cheese when he hears the man grunt and the mechanical click of footrest locking into its downward position.

Scott has the robe tied securely around his waist before he can get a look at the healing bullet wounds. That smile nearly disarms him if it wasn’t for the pain hidden behind that flimsy expression. It keeps up as he limps to the bathroom, snatching the cane the doctor had left for him by the kitchen island to take the weight off his healing femur. He doesn’t miss the hum of approval he gets from Steve, whether it for the cheese or him leaves him smiling genuinely.

“Ham, turkey, or beef?” Steve asks as he comes back, sliding onto a kitchen stool with a subdues wince.

“Turkey please.” Scott says, watching the hands that were usually busy taking down bad guys crafting sandwiches.

The eat in a companionable silence, Steve turning off the television as soon as Scott starts to tense up and grumble under his breath between bites. They get dressed and after Steve ends up escorting him down to the doctors for physical therapy. His PT just misses them sharing a chaste kiss before separating. Her expression a little surprised to see him happy to be in medical. Two hours of exercises that feel like they rival his training with Steve, he limps out on a pair of crutches practically dragging his bad leg.

The cycle goes on like that for three weeks. Sleeping some way in Steve’s arms, waking later in the morning much to the man’s displeasure, going to physical therapy, and then coming back to Steve. They don’t do much more than cuddle and kiss, and that’s ok with him. It’s nice to feel safe and loved for one in his life with a romantic partner. The cycle breaks when they clear both of them for missions again. Their mission doesn’t come immediately, at least his doesn’t. They find the staff and Tony decides to throw a party. 

Scott sits a friendly distance away from Steve on the couch, leaning back with a lovely drink that Natasha made him. Laughing at a stupid joke Rhodes made as the others try and life Thor’s hammer. He doesn’t miss it nudge like some others, the full-blown surprise flashing over the god’s face as Steve shrugs in innocence and sits down a little closer to him. The man touches his shoulder after another joke and he starts to smile until a robot voice starts talking.

Steve’s slow to get up from the hits he takes from Tony’s robots, and Scott has so much adrenaline flowing through his veins that it takes a lot of control not to get emotional. The resulting battle for the vibranium with Ultron cuts into Steve in ways he can’t see. But as soon as Wanda cuts into his mind, his partner’s wellbeing is a second thought immediately. 

_Suddenly he’s back in Afghanistan, the sun shining bright down on the desert around him. The weight of a USA issued assault rifle heavy in his hands. Looking around at the dirt road stretching in front of him and the Humvee idling to his right. His vision is blurry and scrubbing at the edges of his combat glasses doesn’t help. A hand lands hard on his shoulder jolting him out of the observation._

_“Hey Cap, zoning out again?” A white toothed southern boy says, Kent Daniels, his best friend._

_“Daniels?” He asks, looking around widely, this wasn’t the container ship._

_“Captain T’Perro, you in there?” His friend asks again, tapping a finger on his Kevlar helmet._

_“Uh, yeah. What are, this mission yeah.” Scott mumbles, opening the driver’s side door to reveal a confused private._

_That’s right, he always sat shotgun. Shaking his head, he rounds the vehicle and gets into the passenger seat. Taking off his helmet, he sets it on the dash and waves for the private to start driving. The roads are about as bumpy as he remembers them, and he knows behind every bump was the possibility for death. The sun visor comes down after a large one, revealing a pack of trading cards wrapping in a rubber band._

_“I still can’t believe you carry those Cap.” Daniels laughs from the back, staring out a window with that same smile._

_“They’re good luck, haven’t gotten killed yet and I’ve had those things for four deployments.” Scott says, smirking back at his friend as he knocks on the two by four piece of wood they had strapped to the ceiling of the Humvee._

_Grabbing them in his gloved fingers, he thumbs the old cards with a fond smile. The 1940’s smile of Captain America staring back up at him. One card showing off the shield even bearing a fading signature from the man himself. His prized possessions, his good luck charms. Stuffing the shield card in his left breast pocket, he puts his helmet back on and stares out at the road. Fifth deployment here we go…_

_“Scott?” A whisper says through his mind._

_“What?” Scott says, sitting up stiffly._

_“No one said anything you loon, we need to take you back to base?” Daniels asks, leaning forward to set a hand on his shoulder._

_“Scott!?” The whispers turns into a shout and suddenly he ripping his helmet off and throwing it at his feet to grab his splitting head._

_“Stop the truck.” Daniels says, the truck grinding to a halt as he jumps out and rips open his best friend’s door._

_“Scott you need to get yourself together.” The voices of Daniels and the other combine as he blinks white._

Suddenly he’s back in the cargo bay of a quinjet, Steve’s face filling his vision with an expression of the deepest concern. Looking around he finds everyone else on the team in a similar state of concern with a little of their own personal hells sprinkled in. Even the captain kneeling in front of him has somewhat of a far off look in his eyes as he tries his best to focus his fractured attention. Lifting one shaky hand up, he places it on the man’s shoulder and nods weakly.

“I’m here.” He whispers, leaning back in the seat as he does his best to put the remnants of that memory into a box in the back of his mind.

The man just nods, going to sit in his own seat. They land a few hours later, a farm house deep in the country that Clint seems enthralled to be at. Clenching his helmet in his fingers, he follows behind Steve as they enter the house. Watching a woman and then two children fly into the archer, they separate to each clear their heads. He doesn’t follow Steve right away, just watches as he pauses in the doorway looking haunted. In the next moment, he smiling over his shoulder and nodding for him to follow him.

They end up in a small barn near the creek, filled with straw and spare garden tools. Shutting the heavy wooden door behind him, he doesn’t get any warning before Steve’s pressing him against the sturdy wall kissing the life out of him. His hands lands on the older man’s waist, leaning his head back against the wood and letting the man take charge. The pure emotion driving their embrace drags away the last remnants of his memory.

“Sorry if that was…” Steve trails off, still that 40’s man all polite and chivalrous.

“It’s ok, what personal hell did you take a trip too?” Scott asks, pushing the man back to sit on one of the straw bales before settling next to him.

“Dance hall, you?” The man says, his voice and eyes promising to tell more later, when he’s had time to process it himself.

“Afghanistan, you know I had playing cards of you as a good luck charm. Even a signed one. The day I got caught in that explosion, didn’t have them.” He explains, a lot of emotion stuck in his throat as he presses his face into the man’s neck.

“That’s pretty funny, which ones did you use for you know?” Steve asks and suddenly there’s a blush spreading up the older man’s neck at realizing what he just said.

“Oh those I kept under my pillow,” Scott says, bringing one hand up to caress his cheek, “Can’t believe I’m corrupting the great captain.”

Steve smiles, leaning in for another kiss. They’re in the middle of a deep, passionate one with the older man’s hands sliding lower on his waist almost to the curve of his spine and a destination he’s been wanting when the barn door opens. Both of their faces go red and snap towards Clint’s wife Laura. One hand on her bump as she reaches for one of the shovels. She looks between them for moment before smiling and shaking her head.

“Ok, first Natasha and Bruce, now you two. Do you date your teammates often?” She asks, holding the shovel tight.

“Uh, please don’t tell them.” Scott says, Steve’s hand squeezing his forearm with a similar begging expression.

“Course, but please get out of my shed.” She says and in a moment they’re up on their feet walking past her.

Scott ends up with said shovel, turning over some soil in the woman’s garden and helping pick veggies for their dinner. The woman in question watches him from a chair at the edge of the small plot. Separating peas from their pods and into a bowl as he works on layering some compost in with the growing corn.

“So how long have you two?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Tony and Steve are still cutting woods a few hundred feet from them.

“Few months, we uh thought it best to keep it low for now.” He explains, wrinkling his face at the smell of the compost.

“And you, how’d you get your powers?” She asks, choosing to change the subject as Steve walks over and leans against the short fence.

“I got, injured in the army. Choice between a shady lab project or being paralyzed. They used some of that dummies serum formula and mixed in some ideas of their own. I was the only one that worked.” He explains, smiling as the older man sends him a fond smile.

“He can turn invisible and I can’t, big upgrade there.” Steve chuckles, easily catching a small rock thrown in the general direction of his head.

They eat a nice dinner that night, laughing together as Laura ribs Clint for the team’s benefit. Steve squeezes his knee under the table briefly as they listen to the pair tell the story of how they met. It’s short lived as some of the team look around, the man pulls his hand back but letting his fingers linger for as long as he can. They wash up and pick sleeping arrangements. Natasha and Bruce upstairs in the guest bedroom, Tony and Thor in another one upstairs, and them on the couch downstairs. They start off with Steve sitting up and back with this legs on the coffee table, himself laid out with his feet in the man’s lap, and a few blankets between them. Dressed in just their undersuits.

Steve wakes up with a start for some reason late that night, maybe early that morning. Looking around he sees Laura is the kitchen fixing herself a late-night snack to sate her pregnant cravings. Looking down the realization hits him that it’s Scott that woke him up. His face scrunched up in pain as he tosses and turns under the blanket, his bare toes curling against his thigh. The small whimpers snap his out of his staring, trying to think of a way to comfort the man before the possibility of his voice getting louder becomes a reality.

Grabbing the cushions off the back of the couch, he gently sets them on the floor before lying down behind the man. Pulling the blankets over the both of them, he kisses the man’s trembling jawline before wrapping his arms around his heaving chest. Pulling his back flush with his chest does the job immediately, those whimpers quieting as the tension leeches out of the man’s muscles. There’s a pillow gently positioned under his head a few minutes later, Laura smiling down on him from the back of the couch when he looks up.

“I wake up early, so I’ll make sure you two aren’t found out. Good night Captain.” She says, patting his blanketed shoulder before making her way back to her room.

He makes sure to watch the other for a few minutes, until those erratic breaths even out into light snores. Closing his own eyes and nuzzling his face into the man’s shoulder to claim his own comfort of sleep from the embrace. True to Laura’s word, he’s woken up early that next morning before anyone else is up and about. Separating himself from Scott after a chaste kiss to his cheek, he sits up and throws the blankets that had been around him onto the still snoozing man.

“Might wanna wipe the drool Cap.” She says, pointing to her own chin before walking over to the kitchen.

He does one better and heads to the bathroom, intent on taking a short shower and shaving if there’s an extra of Clint’s. He’s never liked when it starts to grown in, always itchy and in the way. If it wasn’t for some of the serums effects on his testosterone, he’d probably still have his same baby face. Scott likes it though, has a handsome bit of stubble framing that strong jaw and chin. He knows deep down the younger would prefer for him to keep his too, but that’s an experiment in each other that needs to wait for when they’re not at constant war.

Scott’s awake when he comes back freshly showered and shaved. The younger brushing past him in a hurry as soon as the bathroom door had squeaked open. A few moments of standing still and he hears the shower turn on again, the small radio by the sink being turned on to a low volume. They’re showers are the last simple things in their lives for a few weeks. As soon as the team figures out that Ultron is going after Dr. Cho and her research, they’re mobilized back to New York. 

“We need to get that cradle.” Scott yells over the sound of Steve, Natasha, and him fighting Ultron and his robots hand to hand.

“I know, Steve can you distract Ultron?” Natasha yells as she watches a robot slam Scott through the back doors of the tractor trailer.

“Will do, you two get that cradle. Clint be ready for pick up.” Steve orders, slamming the robotic leader off the truck and into a passing train.

Slamming his armored fingers into the bottom of the truck, Scott just manages to catch Natasha’s arm to keep them from falling out the back as it lifts from the ground. As soon as they get stabilized and hear the familiar sound of a quinjet tailing them, Nat arms a bomb and he puts his hands on the cradle to start pushing as Clint lines them up. They’re high up enough that the air is starting to thin and the city below them shrinks into tiny ant like dots. 

“Be ready for pick up Clint.” Nat yells as they both start pushing.

They go weightless for a moment before slamming into the back of the quinjet. Scott only gets a moment of reprieve before a metal hand is grabbing the back of his teammates suit and throwing her from the plane. Running after her, he slams his hand into the ramp switch for the jet and as it closes and seal the ark safety inside he splits the gap. Flying through the air, he just manages to control his descent to catch Nat midair. 

“Please tell me you have a parachute or something.” She says, holding onto his for dear life as the ground starts to get impossibly closer.

“Wish I could, just hang on.” Scott says, gently adjusting his hold on the woman so that she was curled in his arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nat asks, noticing herself getting higher on his chest with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and knees.

“Only one of us can take that impact and survive, just trust me.” He says, holding tight as he makes sure his legs are below him.

Crying out as they impact the ground, he can feel his legs breaking as his back hits second, and then her weight settles on his chest. Beyond the heartbeat thumping in his ears he can hear her cursing venomously at him as she rolls off his chest. He only gets a moment to try and right himself before a pair of metal hands are grabbing at both of them. The moment his legs get jostled is when he blacks out and goes limp.

“C’mon soldier, wake up.” A gently feminine voice says above him, delicate fingers running through his sweaty hair and over his scalp.

“Ugh, five more minutes.” He mumbles, going to curl into himself only to have a stabbing pain race up his spine.

Cracking open his eyes, he’s met with the concerned yet still confident stare of Nat from above him. It takes him a moment to realize he’s on his back with his head cushioned on her left thigh. Glancing down he sees three two by fours, one beside each leg and one between them wrapped tightly in duct tape as a makeshift splint. His left leg definitely feels shattered, his right maybe half shattered if he’s lucky. A flick to his nose startles him out of his thinking.

“I’m gonna punch you when you’re better for doing that by the way. You damned super soldiers.” She says, smiling nevertheless as she continues running her fingers through his hair.

“Fair enough. Where are we?” He asks, leaning her cheek against his thigh so that he’s just staring at her stomach since trying to process more information is making his dizzy and nauseous.

“Ultron’s lab is Sekovia, we’re prisoners for now.” She explains, grabbing a scrap of cool metal from the floor to press against his warm forehead.

Glancing to his other side, he sees what she means. They’re what looks like miles underground with vibranium powered technology snaking through the earth around them. There’s a barred gate keeping them in this small room, but he knows that a flick of his strength could open it for the woman to escape. As much as he wouldn’t like being left behind, it would be worth it to at least get her out. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and if you say it out loud I’ll punch you here and now.” She threatens, tossing the metal to the side as she feels it heat up in her palm from how high of fever he’s running to heal.

“Ok, whatcha wanna talk about?” He asks, humming with a smile as she presses another piece of cool metal to his forehead.

“I’m thinking you should get some rest.” She says, noticing how pale he’s starting to get. 

She doesn’t know if he needs medical attention right now, but if he does going in his sleep might be the best option since their teammates have no idea where they’re at. As much as she doesn’t want a teammate to die in her arms, she doesn’t want him to suffer either. She just doesn’t know how she going to tell Steve though, the two super soldiers were like annoying best friends. 

“So, let’s see topics, topics,” He muses completely ignoring her, “Oh what personal hell did the bitch send you too?” 

“Trust me you don’t wanna know that side of me.” She says, tossing aside the warm metal to search for another piece, ending up with a brick this time.

“Sure I do. I got sent back to Afghanistan. Was a Captain myself back then. In a way it was nice to see my soldier’s alive, before the explosion happened and the terrorists executed them. Maybe that’s why I do this shit all the time, fate keeps letting me live when I want to end it.” Scott rambles, tears running down the sides of his face.

“I was raised in a place that taught me not to care about myself, only the mission. They went so far as to sterilize us to make sure we had nothing to want to live for. But now, I have the team it’s like a family.” She explains, brushing the tear tracks from his cheeks.

“What method did they use, to sterilize you?” He asks, not completely aware of what he’s asking the woman even as he feels her thigh tense up under his head.

“The tube one.” She says softly, switching out the brick for another one.

“So you still have the, what’s the one with a U?” He asks, groaning as a throb of pain comes up his back again.

“The uterus? Yeah, what the hell are you getting at?” She has to asks because for once she can’t follow someone’s train of though.

“You can still have kids then. The procedure the makes an artificial egg out of your DNA and you can have it fertilized naturally or in a lab and implanted into you.” Scott explains, sounding remarkably sober given the furnace that his now his head.

She stays silent for a few minutes after that. Tears running down her own cheeks as she thinks about this means for her. That she could have a family if and when she found someone that she loved and loved her. It has her sniffling but quickly pressing that emotion down as Scott starts laughing and then groaning because the convulsions are jostling his legs.

“What are you laughing at?” Nat asks, poking him in the shoulder to get his fractured attention.

“I don’t know if there should be little Nat’s running around for my safety.” He says, getting another flic to his nose.

“Ass, thank you Scott. You ok?” She asks, getting rid of the brick to rub his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t let me fall asleep please. Steve will kill me if I kick the bucket.” Scott mumbles, glancing up at her misty eyes as she nods.

“So, what’s the deal between you two?” She has to ask, because she does have a juvenile part of her brain that thinks they’re getting more than workouts from each other.

“What do you know?” He shoots back, a fever addled smirk gracing his pale face.

“Nothing solid, but I have ideas.” Natasha smirks back and it only gets wider when she sees a blush that has nothing to do with the fever.

“Don’t spread it around, we got a good thing going right now.” Scott admits, smiling warmly now as he remembers their time in Clint’s shed.

“I knew it, so you two fucking yet?” She asks and Scott starts choking on his own spit.

“N-no, not that far yet. You know I think I changed my mind, let me go to sleep.” He groans, glancing up as he feels the ground around them shake.

“I don’t think so buddy.” Nat says, looking up as Dr. Banner skids to a stop in front of their cell.

“Oh, hell. C’mon we need to get you two out of here.” The man says, looking over his shoulder before wrenching open the cell door. 

Bruce looks him over before nodding with a snarl, changing into the Hulk before their eyes so that he can pick him up with having to drag him between their shoulders. Nat follows close behind as they make their way to the surface just as the city starts to rise up from the ground. Scott lets out a whimper as he’s sat down beside a crushed car. Someone throws a rifle in his lap and with that the Hulk takes off to start tearing apart robots. 

“Scott, just stay here. We’ll figure this out.” Nat says, smacking her ear piece to get it working.

“I know we will.” Scott says, shooting a robot in the head that was trying to sneak up behind them.

Scott fights alongside the other Avengers against Ultron. Eventually Nat hauls him to the bridge where Fury is busy loading up civilians. Most of the others are already on transports as the air starts to thin more and more. Nat’s loading an elderly woman on the transport and it about to go back for him when a shudder runs through the ground below him.

“It’s being taken, oh…” Tony grunts as the ground suddenly drops along with his stomach. 

Just managing to grab onto a piece of rebar, he succeeds in not being thrown off the side of the broken city. Well, until the steel rod cracks from the ground at the force of his weight and the gravity pulling him downward. Suddenly he’s being thrown through the several concrete layers of a building and into the atmosphere. The makeshift splint comes off his legs and he’s gritting his teeth at the new influx of pain. His head smacks against the structure a little more than his body and suddenly he hears the crack of his helmet seal coming loose. He’s thankful Bruce had found it and shoved it on his head before all of this. Then the air rushing past his face as said helmet flies towards earth along with him.

Looking to his side, he sees a woman holding her son dropping as fast as him. Reaching out, he grabs them both in his arms and shushes their cries so he can think. 

Please tell me this suit has another radio, he prays before speaking, yelling, “Ironman, Cap, anyone. Kind of hurtling toward earth right now.” 

His body speeds up as he nears the surface of the planet he calls home. Suddenly one of Tony’s unmanned suits does its best to wrap around his armored body while another grabs him under the shoulders to boost in the opposite direction. Shoving the kid and his mother into one of the robot’s arms, he pushes it away from him. Knowing it couldn’t support them and his bulk this short of distance from the solid ground beneath them. Another bot arrives soon after too duplicate the actions and try to slow his fall with it’s jets. It’s not enough right now though, the forces of physics are working against them as he hits the ground hard enough to have his world go red before black.

Steve’s just about ready to jump off the ship as it slows to descend towards the crater in the earth. Most of the others were helping the civilians and doing damage control. Natasha’s steady hand on his shoulder is the only thing grounding him at the moment as he catches sight of the mangled ironman suit buried in the earth. The other suit that had tried to stall his descent lying in smoking ruins a few feet away. 

“Scott.” Steve whispers, breaking out the woman’s grip as soon as the ship gets ten feet from the ground with the ramp dropped.

“Steve, wait.” Natasha says, grabbing his arm as he’s just feet from the unmoving body of his best friend, his partner.

“Sir, we can’t move him abruptly. But we will need you to get some of this armor off him.” The chief medic, Haslow says as he kneels beside him.

Scott’s left foot twitches slightly as the team of three other medics gently pull the loose parts of the suit off. Natasha kneels by his head, pressing the release on the side of the helmet as the armor collapses on itself and falls to the side. Her hands are quick to catch and immobilize his head in her skilled hands. Bloods covers his face in flakes and fresh patches. His eyes open and blinking but unfocused as his lips tremble with strained breaths. 

“Scott, I’m here, it’s ok.” Steve says, watching the man’s blank face carefully before his attention gets interrupted by a hand on his shoulder from Haslow.

“Gently, get Starks armor off him. It looks like his maintained its integrity meaning we can lock it down once he’s out.” Haslow explains, pointing to the cracked shell surrounding Scott’s green painted armor.

Nodding, Steve gently pulls the pieces apart like tin foil until he can see the undersuit polymer rising and falling with Scott’s ragged breathing. Blood pools from areas around his abdomen and thighs, the lower half of his right leg bent at an unnatural angle. The armor obviously holding it together. Taking a deep breath, he locks the armor down so the medics can apply a neck brace and roll Scott onto a levitating stretcher.

Natasha follows grabs his arm and holds it tight as they walk behind the medical team. Even with the dense armor of the Captain’s suit, she can still feel his muscles trembling. She knows now that the two super soldiers are close, but she also had the feeling that she was seeing the actual truth of how close they were now. The last time she’d seen Steve look this troubled, this on the edge of breaking, they’d been standing in the front row of the funeral service for Peggy.

“He’ll be ok Cap, he’s tough like you.” She says, patting his shoulder as they moved to sit in the seat of the quinjet.

“We’re tough, not invincible.” Steve whispers, staring forward as the medics laid an oxygen mask over those bruised and bloody lips.

Dr. Helen Cho herself arrives in the medical wing with Dr. Carlyle on her left as they rush toward the landing pad at Stark Tower. She’s got bandages on herself, but when the priority call came through she got straight out of her own hospital bed. Her own medical team and his back them up as the quinjet lands. Out comes a man being held together by Stark armor technology and that of a lab long gone now. 

“Boot up the spare cradle, he’s gonna need it.” Dr. Cho orders, walking along side the stretcher as it moves toward the medical wing of the tower.

“Vitals are erratic, the serum is trying to compensate but it’s making it worse.” Dr. Carlyle says, looking at Jarvis’s remote scans as they float up in front of him.

As soon as the stretcher stops, the drops of blood that had been coming off the sides of it start to pool in one area just below. The turn into a stream when the armor comes off completely, then stop as Scott’s loaded into the cradle. The second it turns on he comes out of his daze and starts screaming blood murder. The feeling of his tissues melding back together, bones breaking and remaking, and part of him resisting it leave him faint.

“Jarvis, inject cardiac regulators. Instruct the cradle to remove and replace section 4d.” Dr. Cho instructs.

Suddenly he screams impossibly louder before feeling a little relief. Eyes fluttering as the cradle drives large needles into the man’s chest around his heart. The vitals even out on the screen for now, but the man’s cries of pain continue as his body is held still by the electromagnetic forces in the cradle. An IV goes into his arm to give fluids while another starts a blood transfusion. 

“How long is this going to take?” Dr. Carlyle asks, wincing as the man’s screams get rawer.

“Ten hours. I’m sorry we can’t do anything about his pain.” She says, placing her hands on the edge of the cradle in sympathy.

Hour four they end up putting two small tubes in his throat, one to inject a soothing numbing agent and another to suction it and the blood from screaming his throat to shreds out. The cardiac regulators have to restart his heart three times. Hour ten the machine powers down and his eyes roll back in his head. A breathing tube gets stuck down his throat because of how weak he is and he’s washed up by the nurses. Sweat and blood running down the drain before he’s bandaged and moved to the most comfortable hospital bed they have.

“Steve.” Natasha says, shaking the dozing super soldier away from where he’s sitting in the hall outside of the OR.

“What?” The man mumbles, rubbing his tender and reddened eyes.

“C’mon, they put him in a room.” She says, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder as he tries to get up to fast.

“Is he?” Steve starts to ask as they walk through the sound proofed doors.

Only Scott’s face isn’t covered by bandages, thrumming pulse pads, or blankets. His face is lax and pale with exhaustion, some bruises that didn’t come from that battle standing out on his neck and jaw. Medical tape keeps an intrusive looking mouth piece for his breathing tube in place with a nose clip to make sure he only uses it. His hair is half dried from the bath given it doesn’t smell like sweat when Steve leans down to kiss his warm forehead. 

“He’s going to be out for awhile Mr. Rodgers, we’ll need to keep him in a medically induced coma for a few weeks at least to control his pain and healing.” Dr. Cho explains, smiling sadly as she watches the tears come down the man’s cheeks.

“Thank you doctor.” Natasha says for him, the doctor leaving the pair alone with the injured man.

“I sorry Scott.” Steve whispers, curling over the man protectively as he cries.

“Steve, it wasn’t your fault. I got the footage from his armor while you were taking that floor nap. He made the choice to save civilians over himself. I guess that self-destruction hero streak runs in the serum you two got in you.” She explains, handing him a few tissues as she takes a seat between the bed and the windows looking out over the large park the two liked to go running in.

“No, it just amplifies the person you were before.” The man says softly, wiping his eyes before moving to sit up on the side of the very wide hospital bed. 

The only parts that end up touching his partner are his right thigh and part of his chest, not wanting to give the man any more pain than he was already in. He could still hear the screams making their way though the thick walls of the OR. Lifting a gentle hand, he gently brushing the man’s hair, fingers trailing lightly over his scalp. Scott doesn’t show any sign of feeling it, but it brings comfort to Steve to do, to just be close.

“So, how long you two been keeping this from us?” Natasha asks, a little tease in her voice, but said with a smile as she gestures between the two of them.

“Weeks, months.” He says dismissively as his attention remains focused.

“He’ll be ok, he just needs time,” She says, looking up as someone knocks lightly on the door, “Jarvis who is it?”

“Mr. Stark wishes to visit Mr. T’Perro.” The A.I. replies.

“No.” Steve mumbles, glaring over his shoulder.

A familiar anger blooms in his chest. Thinking that if Stark had just kept his hands off that A.I. none of this would have happened. Scott and he would be laughing at the stupid party together. They could have slipped away and spent time together. Staring at the stars on the observation floor, dancing to that old record in the man’s room, or pushing their relationship to the next and intimate level. But instead he could only barely touch the man, so broken and fragile beside him.

“Steve.” Natasha chastises as another knock comes.

“No, if you let him in here I can’t be responsible for what I do.” He says, and her eyes widen a fraction at his unusually threatening tone.

“Jarvis, tell Tony not now.” She says, leaning back in her chair to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Your and Mr. Roger’s sentiments have been communicated. Mr. Stark asks to be kept informed of Mr. T’Perros condition and that he will visit when you give permission Mr. Rogers.” Jarvis explains, getting a grateful nod from the Captain.

“Thank you.” Steve says, grabbing the edge of one of the pillows to cry into as he clutched his partner’s hand.

After two weeks’ time they both get pulled away from the man’s bedside to train the new Avengers and interrupt an attempt to steal a biological weapon. Steve doesn’t make it back to his bedside for three more weeks, the thick volume detailing the accords clutched tightly in his hand as he pushes open the door. Scott’s in much of the same state he left him in, just with a few less bandages and bruises. Dr. Cho had chosen to extend the coma due to dangerous swelling in the super soldier’s brain and chest.

The older man didn’t like the news, but understood that the doctor wouldn’t prolong the man’s unconscious state unless it was truly dangerous for him to wake up sooner. So taking the pullout bed, the one he slept in the most these days, he opens his bookmarked page and takes out his highlighter and sticky notes. He’s a little over halfway through, the pages colored and tags with the sticky notes to excess when Natasha and Wanda walk in carrying three trays of food between them.

“Good read?” The assassin asks, smiling as she sets down a tray right on top of the book.

“If you like rules, regulations, and restrictions to our very freedoms.” Steve says, smiling a little as he lifts the tray to set the book aside before digging in.

“I think you can agree that we need a little oversight.” Natasha says, digging into her own lunch with Wanda at the small table with four chairs in the corner of the room across from the man’s bed.

“Not like this.” He replies, losing his appetite and setting his tray aside as some familiar nausea kicks at his stomach.

Putting his head in his hands, he rubs his hot forehead with his fingers to try and quell it. Dr. Carlyle had said it was most likely from stress, sleep deprivation, and his poor nutrition as of late. It doesn’t work this time as he lunges for the garbage can beside the head of Scott’s bed and retches. Several minutes later, he slumps against Scott’s bed and lets the tears run down his face. He hadn’t been this miserable since before the man had come into his life. A blessing and curse he mused.

“You ok Cap?” Natasha asks, chewing some of her burger, knowing he man didn’t like to be hovered over.

“Just peachy.” He mumbles back, staring out across the park.

Scott wakes up the day Steve goes rogue from the Avengers. Sitting up with a wince, he looks around the empty room in confusion before remembering the events of battling Ultron and the falling city. Glancing over at the clock it shows ten weeks since then. Ripping the breathing tube out of his throat along with the IV and chest sensors, he gets to his shaky feet. A metal thump catches him off guard and looking down he notices that his right leg from the knee down is made of shiny vibranium. Shaking his head, he limps over to where his armor and weapons sit stacked and repaired. 

“Mr. T’Perro, please be advised Mr. Rogers has gone rogue and Wakanda forces are on their way to interrogate you.” Jarvis warns.

Dressing in record time, he stows his weapons and checks his shield before smashing the window of his room. Thinking quickly, he grabs a couple pulse pads, bandages, and the pills on his bedside table to throw in his pack before leaving. Landing with a thud at the bottom, he does his best to stretch his stiff muscles before taking off from the compound in a sprint.

“Jarvis, disable my suit tracker priority alpha beta tango. What’s Steve’s location?” Scott asks, hiding behind a transport truck as he sees forces running into the tower.

A nav point appears in the corner of his visor as his coms shut down. Scott looks over his shoulder when he gets to the airport, standing behind the quinjet as he watches the Avengers fight each other. Steve looks determined as ever and an unstable as ever. So taking a deep breath, he turns himself invisible and walks toward the fight. To say the Peter is surprised when someone grabs him by the scruff of his neck as he’s webbing the Captain is an understatement.

“What the, what’s going on!?” Peter yells as he’s shoved into a luggage car, the metal crunched around him in a makeshift cage. 

“Tony, we got a new player on the battlefield.” Rhodes says, looking around for the new threat that had taken out their web stringer.

“Yeah, but they’re not on our side.” The man replies, scanning himself as he fights off Clint’s persistent arrows.

Steve’s breathing hard behind a plane tire with Bucky when he reaches them. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear and the other side is distracted he shoves the pair toward the quinjet. The pair startles, but starts sprinting in that direction. The Black Panther trails after them like a magnet to an opposite force. Too bad he can’t see Scott or his metal foot that lands rather painfully on the back of his knee causing him to roll to a painful stop. Slipping onto the transport behind Steve, he waits until they’re clear of the others to reveal himself.

“I take a nap for a few weeks and you lose your goddamn mind. What am I gonna do with you?” Scott asks, taking off his helmet with a smile as Steve’s expression crumbles.

“Scott.” He says, tears pooling in his eyes as he rushes forward to wrap the man in his arms.

“Hey Steve.” He whispers, patting the man’s back as they just hold each other for a few moments.

“You’re awake.” Steve says, pulling a fraction apart.

“I’m sorry I slept that long, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?” He asks, pushing the other to slip back into business mode.

Steve and Bucky take turns explaining the events of the last ten weeks. The tension of the accords, Bucky’s brainwashing, the Wakanda forces pursuing them, and Tony’s hellbent wish to bring them in. He’s told about the winter soldier project just as the land in Siberia. Shivering at the chill in the air, he follows the pair closely down the bunker’s stairs. Steve keeps shooting him glances behind the thick cover of his helmet. One well placed glare at said man stops them, he doesn’t need to be worried about his well-being right now. They’re almost to the main chamber when Tony appears from the other end of the hallway.

“I come in peace.” The man says, holding up his armored hands, eyes flickering briefly in surprise as he sees Scott upright.

They walk down to the main room in a fog, Steve and Bucky shivering visibly at the structure they remember from their time covered in a thick layer of dust. Scott’s standing a few feet away when the video plays, feeling his heart climb into his throat as it ends and Tony’s stare turns on the winter soldier. Suddenly Steve’s body is flying into his own as they crumple in a heap together. The older man is quicker to get up, desperate to keep Tony off his friend.

Stumbling to his feet, he manages to wrap his arms around the billionaire’s waist as he flies by. His dense weight makes them both crash to the floor in a battle of fists. Wrapping his arm around the man’s neck as the other grabs for his pistol. They roll over a ledge and drop fifty feet into an exhaust chute for the missile that could have been in this silo. The wind blows through the door height openings as a metal fist impacts his side and sends him flying into the concrete wall. Steve and Bucky aren’t far behind, skidding to a stop in front of his kneeling form. 

Scott sees red when the man blasts off Bucky’s arm, and gets up to move as his partner gets a dozen hard hits to the head without his shield to protect him. That familiar rage of his temper flares, but his vision stays solid. Throwing a punch at the man, he succeeds in punching through the thick metal of the Ironman suit. His knuckles touch the man’s clothed chest before ripping it free of the managed armor. There’s fear in Tony’s eyes now as he picks him up and slams the shorter man against the concrete wall over and over until dropping him to the floor barely moving. 

“Scott, stop. He isn’t worth it.” Steve groans, one hand clutching his stomach.

The man’s words clear the fog in his head, looking for a moment in horror at how much damage he’s done to Tony. Turning around he watches the older super soldier’s support each other, Bucky wordlessly pointing to the surface. Scott takes one last look at the man behind him before bending down to pick up the sturdy shield of his partner. A few scratch marks on the once perfect emblem.

“That’s not his, my dad made that. He’s doesn’t deserve it.” Tony groans, glaring with the last of his strength. 

Scott throws it hard at the man as Steve nods to leave it. The vibranium emitting a shrill clanging sound as it sticks into the wall inches above the man’s head. The trio of super soldiers emerges from the bunker shrouded in tension. As T’Challa emerges from another ship, they all freeze. Scott drifts between the fog and reality as Steve and he talk. An agreement to harbor their fugitive selves in Wakanda for as long as they need struck. 

Blinking he finds himself tucked into a rather comfortable bed in a spacious room with a view overlooking rolling hills and beautiful waterfalls. Sitting up, he winces at the soreness in his body. Finding himself only dressed in a pair of light boxers it takes him a moment to realize someone else is in bed with him. Steve’s snoring heavily, curled up in the warm spot his back was just lying in. Clad in the same amount of clothing, Scott can see the healing bruises and cuts lining the man’s body from the fights over the past few weeks. 

Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he shakily gets to his feet. The toll of being bedridden for ten weeks weighing heavily on his body now that he didn’t have adrenaline to overpower the fatigue. It’s almost enough to fall back into the bed and sleep, but there’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind to find out where he is exactly and what’s going on. Limping over to the kitchen countertop, he grabs a data pad that has what looks like a letter written on it.

_Captain and Sentinel,_

_These quarters are yours for as long as you need. Please feel free to join in our communal meals three times a day. If not, there are many around that you can talk to and get to know to find your peace. When you find yourself well again, there are many jobs around the kingdom to fill your time with._

_King T’Challa_

Sighing deeply, he chooses to take a shower and shave before thinking of going back to bed. Once he’s feeling human again and the water has loosened his tense muscles, he exits the spacious bathroom. Steve’s starting to stir as he limps back to the bedroom, flopping back down beside the man to curl around him. One hand coming up to run through the older man’s hair as the other gently rubs up and down his bare back. Those unfocused baby blue eyes crack open and blink a few times before finally focusing on him with a sleepy smile. Sighing deeply, Scott leaning forward a little and kisses those lips deeply.

“You ok?” Scott whispers as they part, taking the hand that had been rubbing the man’s back to drag the blankets back over their shoulders.

“I am, how much did you make me sleep in today?” The man asks, even know there is still something behind that gaze of his.

“It’s only, one in the evening.” He says after looking over the man’s shoulder at the wall clock.

“Dear lord, we should get up.” The older mans mumbles, not making a move to get up though.

“We have time, let’s just enjoy this.” Scott pushes, wrapping his arms around the man to pull him close.

He laughs under his breath as Steve’s breathing evens out and those eyes close again. The older man is snoring heavily again with a few minutes, the battles for his best friend’s life and his own obviously taking a lot out of the man. Scott smiles and kisses his forehead gently before slipping out of bed. Covering the man with their thicker blankets, he spends ten minutes figuring out how to lower the blinds over the windows before slipping into a pair of black cargo pants and a form fitting green button up. Tying his boots, he checks his reflection in the bedroom mirror one last time before leaving their room. 

He’d had the pleasure of visiting a lot of the world in the army, part of the reason he’d signed up. And even more of the map had opened up to him from the Avengers side of the coin. But in all his time, he’d never had a country take his breath away like Wakanda. The lush forests surrounded by an advanced city and flowing waters. It was like he’d finally gotten that paradise he’d been dreaming of for so long, physically at least. Steve and his mental capacities were always in question these days, at least they could have some peace in their lives for once.

It looked like they were being housed in a large black tower in the center of the city, probably where T’Challa had this paradise from. Walking down the marble hallways, he looked around at the intricate art hung on the walls beside pictures of the cities inhabitants and their leaders. Eventually he made it to a large room hung with gigantic purple tapestries depicting the legendary Black Panther and the warriors that stood by his side. Below them sat the king himself and a much larger man clad in the armor of a warrior. T’Challa glanced over the back of the couch he was sitting on looking out over the city to him with a smile and a welcoming wave.

“Sentinel, it is good to see you awake.” T’Challa greeted, pointing to another chair on his right where the other warrior sat on his left.

“Thank you again for taking us in, and you can just call me Scott.” He said, leaning forward to grab one of the overturned glasses to fill it from the pitcher in the center of the table the king hand one foot resting against.

“Of course, Scott this is M’Baku my second in commander here in Wakanda. M’Baku this is Scott or Sentinel, the super soldier that shares his powers with Captain Rogers. We’ve been friends and enemies many times.” The king chuckles as he sips his water.

“My apologies for those times we were enemies. You said in your letter that you needed help around here?” Scott says, sipping the last of the water from his glass.

“Take some time for yourself first, please. The world is often hard on its protectors and I have knowledge that you had been recovering before the Captain’s fight in Siberia. So walk the city, the gardens, and find yourself Scott.” T’Challa says, no room for argument in his voice as he gets up to continue his duties for the day.

“The man is right soldier, you Avengers lost sight of yourselves long ago. Take that time, Wakanda is a good place to do that.” The warrior says, standing up to pat his shoulder with welcoming smile.

Mulling the sentiment over in his head, he finishes off the last of the water in the picture before getting off the chair. He’s torn between going back to check on Steve or taking that walk in the garden. With the pair’s words still fresh in his mind, he chooses the latter. A few helpful palace guards direct him down hallways and elevators and finally to a walkway that leads into a garden that looks five times the size of central park back home. It doesn’t take him long to lose sight of another person, finding himself in a small collection of trees surrounding a smaller waterfall and stream. 

Sitting down on a smoothly worn tree stump, he stares at the moss bordered pond in thought. Watching a few water loving birds dip their heads below the surface to catch skinny looking fish, he takes a deep breath of the fresh air and runs a hand through his hair. He’s sitting close enough to the clear water that he can see his own reflection. The weeks of bedrest had thinned his face slightly and made the black bags that had once been under his eyes disappear almost entirely. But his eyes, their dull gray looked even paler, deader than he remembered.

_“You ever get tired of coming back to this shit hole T’Perro?” A friendly voice asks, patting him hard on the shoulder as he’s staring at an old map with too many different colors of marker marring it._

_“Says the one that keeps coming back with me. Go to see you Daniels.” Captain T’Perro greets, leaning back in the creaky army chair as the sand blows up from outside of his private tent._

_“You two Cap, what are we in for this deployment?” His best friend asks, setting down a bottle of their favorite top shelf whiskey along with two shot glasses._

_“More of the same, but with more high-level terrorist activity than ever. Maybe it’ll get bad enough that the fabled Avengers will come and save us.” The Captain muses, watching the man poor them their first round._

_“You’d love that, maybe Captain America would sign your good luck charms eh?” The soldier chuckles, sliding one glass over to the other man._

_“Maybe, too a not dying on our fifth deployment.” He says, raising the shot glass knowing many more would come through this first night back in hell._

_“To not dying.” Daniels says as they throw the shots back._

Scott realizes he’s smiling after a few moments of the memory, but only realizes that he’s also crying when those tears start hitting the sensitive skin of his jaw. He’d found a brotherhood in the military, people that would die for him without a second thought. His memories tell him that he often used the word family a lot when describing the soldiers under his command to people in it or just civilians. Normally soldiers were separated from their leaders, especially officers. Scott was no different the moment he changed from Chief Master Sergeant to Lieutenant. 

Having dinner with his sergeants, corporals, and privates in the mess hall and their barracks. He’d only spent time in the officer’s club on base once before never going back again. Too many older soldiers too infatuated with themselves and their military careers ending up in history books. He just wanted to make sure his men knew that they could count on him to make the right calls in the heat of battle and that his mission was to get them back home as safe and sound as their enemies would let him. That that mission would always come before the one they were assigned by command.

_“Captain your orders were to clear out enemy forces from that town by any means necessary. Would you like to tell me why you went against direct orders and had your men retreat?” The Colonel asks, crossing his arms over his chest._

_Scott swallowed around the constricting collar of his uniform. He didn’t often wear this set of combat fatigues, often reserving the starched uniform for official meetings like these. Most of his others had dirt, grime, bullet holes, blood, and god knows what else stained into them from years of fighting the same battles on the same soil. Standing at attention in front of his commander’s oak desk wasn’t his area of expertise, the front lines were._

_“Sir, with all due respect my division was suffering too many casualties. I chose to pull back my forces and regroup to treat the wounded and gather the dead. That night of planning allowed up to take the city the next day.” Scott explains, eyes trained on the man’s thinning hair instead of his glaring brown eyes._

_“You’re too soft T’Perro. You’ve been through enough deployments to know that sacrifices must be made in the name of our war against these monsters. Those terrorists had biological weapons, waiting a day should have been out of the options you would consider. This is a disciplinary report Captain, going into your large enough file. Please try and align yourself with the army’s goals in the future. Dismissed.” The man said, signing the bottom of the report._

_Nodding, he stepped forward to sign the bottom himself before turning on his heel and exiting the office. Tugging at his starched collar, he stopped himself from punching the wall in frustration as he head to his tent. He’s made it as far as changing into his dirtier fatigues pants with boots and a faded tan shirt when steps approached the entrance to his tent._

_“Hey Sco-, Captain T’Perro.” Daniels corrected as another officer walked by._

_“Come in Sergeant.” Scott said, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh._

_“Hey, how’d it go?” The man asks carefully, noticing the flare of his friend’s temper from a mile away._

_“Fine, just another piece of paper in my binder of a file. I did the right thing right?” He asks, more mumbles as he sits heavily in his desk chair._

_“Course you did, command was fucking nuts. You pulled us back and we regrouped and won. You saved a lot of people Scott, of course you did the right thing.” Daniels pushes, sitting on the edge of the man’s unmade bed._

_Scott nodded, not looking entirely convinced as he opened his laptop. Glancing over at the list of names and descriptions of how they had been killed or wounded. It was at least two pages long of tightly packed names in a small font. Opening up his saved tab of the military’s form to fill out to notify the families, he picked up his phone first. It was optional to call the families himself, not many officers wanted that burden on their shoulders. He felt it was his duty to tell them, instead of a slip of paper handed by two dressed up soldiers at their front doors._

_“You should come to the barracks, Hanson made his famous MRE casserole and Dickers is breaking open his liquor stash.” Daniels tried, knowing his friend was about to have a hard night ahead of him._

_“I have to finish these first.” Scott says, no room for argument as he put the first name in the database to find their emergency contact._

_“Alright, I’m gonna come check on you in a few hours though.” He promised, squeezing the man on the shoulder before taking his leave._

_His head is pounding as he sets down the phone, checking off the last name on the list and clicking submit on the official report. Dozens of crying parents and children in his recent memory begging him to say he was lying that this was all a joke. At least he could give comfort to them, and more to the relatives of those that were only wounded. That would come home sooner rather than later. It was times like this that he felt raw like an exposed nerve. At least the list wasn’t as long as it could have been._

_Getting up onto his shaky feet, he checks the time noting that it was only two hours since he’d made the first call. Checking to make sure he didn’t look to beaten up, he made his way out of his tent into the darkness of the base. Walking for a few minutes he eventually reached the main barracks of his men. There was light coming from under the tent’s walls and the sounds of men celebrating and victory and mourning their teammates in the best way they knew how. Pushing open the tent, it takes the men a moment realize he did. Dickers is the first to recognize him, smiling sadly as he fills up a tin cup usually reserved for coffee with the good stuff before pressing it into his hands._

_“Thanks for pulling us out Cap, you’re the real hero tonight.” The man says, patting his arm before raising his own glass._

_“To our Sentinel.” Daniels shouts to a chorus of cheers and raised cups, looking at him with a sad smile of his own._

Scott doesn’t smile at that memory. Even as his men had cheered him for protecting them, he still felt like a failure during each and every one of those phone calls he’d made and would make after that mission. He still wouldn’t have done it any different though, being that kind of leader. It wasn’t like him to leave from a desk in a secure building or Humvee while his men put their lives on the line under his orders. He’d lost track of how many bullet’s he’d taken getting soldier out of the line of fire, often masking them until they were back on their way to or at base. 

_“Good mission everyone, Daniels back to base.” He orders, dirt in his teeth as he smiles to the men in the back of the Humvee from his passenger seat._

_Leaning his head back, he takes off his helmet and sets it on the dash with a deep sigh. They’d been liberating a distant and friendly village from a group of terrorists that had wanted to use it lay low. It’d been a long and tense fight, but they’d come out with zero deaths or injuries. Well almost zero injuries. He did his best to hide his wince as he lowered his right hand down to his thigh. There was the familiar sting of a bullet wound there and the only thing keeping the blood from showing too much was the Kevlar holster it had torn through keeping pressure on the wound._

_“You ok Cap?” Daniels asks, knowing all too well that the man was good at hiding when he was hurting._

_“Yeah, focus on the road Corporal.” Scott orders, pressing a hand down on his stinging thigh as his face starts to betray how much blood he might be losing._

_“Ok, no. Echo 2-1 to base.” Daniels says after picking up the radio from the center console._

_“Echo 2-1 this is base, how copy?” The radio operator replies._

_“Base, we are returning to you now about two klicks out. I’m going to need medical at the vehicle bay for one stubborn Captain T’Perro. Looks like a shot to the thigh over.” The driver explains, picking up speed as another soldier radios the rest of the convoy about why their speeding up._

_“You corporal, are an asshole.” Scott says, laughing under his breath as the rest of the soldiers in the vehicle follow suit._

_“It’s not like we can lose you, you’re the only one that keeps us safe.” A quiet private says from the seat behind his._

_He smiles until they get back into the base gates. A truck waiting from the infirmary with two medics standing by the tailgate as Daniels parks them as close as possible to it. Scott goes to step out of the truck and promptly almost lands on his face as he puts weight on his bad leg. The medics are there to catch him, looking in worry at the blood covering the entire backside of his fatigue pants. Daniels stands close by, glancing between the puddle of blood in the seat and his limping friend._

_“Need someone to hold your hand Captain?” The man asks, rubbing his arms as one of the mechanics waves him off to starting cleaning up the seat._

_“Probably need someone to help me back to my tent.” Scott groans, letting himself get laid down on a stretcher in the back seat of the jeep._

_“I can do that.” Daniels says, jumping onto the tailgate of the vehicle as the medics start driving them towards said infirmary._

_It takes an hour to pull the bullet out of his hamstring, stitch, bandage, and get him new underwear and pants. He’s dropped off by the jeep with Daniels acting as his crutch in front of their tent. He’s a little unsteady from the blood loss and pain meds the medics had injected him with. It’s in that state that he ends up leaning heavily on his human crutch until he’s helped out of his clothes into his bed._

_“Get some rest Scott, we’ll hold the fort down while you heal.” Daniels says, patting his shoulder before walking to the exit of the tent._

_“No drinking tonight, you guys have QRF duty.” Scott reminds, smirking as the man groans dramatically before leaving._

He quickly realizes that he’s been dwelling in his memories a little too long as he looks up at the darkening sky above him. Taking a deep breath, he stands from the stump that had long made his backside go numb. In a way he feels clearer having time to work through the memories one at a time. Remember that he was a good leader, that he took care of the soldiers under him like they were family. He thinks back to the last few months of Avenger missions and really starts to consider that they could have gone about them differently. Had less death and more success. It’s a thought for another day though, another walk.

Getting back to the dark tower late that evening, he finds that the inhabitants have already had their dinner. A kind woman packing up the left overs as he walked into the empty kitchen. Taking a plate full of foot since he’d yet to eat all day, he makes his way to the large dining table to eat alone. The food is good, better than he’s had in Steve and his small apartments with their limited knowledge. He ends up going back for seconds and thirds as the woman levels an impressed and exasperated look at him. Washing his own plate, the woman bids him a good night’s sleep before disappearing from the kitchen.

Pressing open their apartment door, he finds Steve settled on the couch beside another large window over looking the more lit side of the city. He’s drawing something on a sketch pad with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Only dressed in what looked like a pair of soft pajama pants and a light tank top. There’s stubble on his chin and jawline and that surprised Scott. Usually the man is much pickier about his facial hair than he is, shaking if he had so much as one hair on his chin. He’s quiet as he changes into a pair of short and a soft black robe. Tying it around his waist as he throws the dirty clothes in a corner on the floor before turning the corner into the living room.

“Hey, whatcha drawing?” Scott asks, settling beside the man to look over his shoulder at the sprawling sketch of the city below.

“Nothing, where’d you go?” Steve asks, leaning back so that his partner could get a better look at the intricate drawing.

“On a walk, the great leaders of Wakanda said I needed to find myself and have some peace while we can. I thought I’d take advantage while you napped for a few days.” He chuckles, gently taking the sketch book and closing it to set to the side safely.

“How was the walk?” The man asks, going easily into his partner’s arms as he opened them in invitation.

“Good, a little of that planet sized weight coming off my shoulders.” He replies, pressing his lips to the older man’s forehead before lying his cheek there.

“Anything I can do to help, you just say so.” Steve says, nuzzling into the younger’s chest with a content sigh.

“I appreciate it, gotta work through most of it alone at first though.” Scott says, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders.

They stayed like that for nearly half an hour, just relaxing in each other’s presence. Steve makes the first move as the clock ticks over to ten o clock. His hand had been tracing each rise and fall of his partner’s toned abdomen under the rob, Scott shivering each time he hit a ticklish spot. That hand was now running fingers down his happy trail to the waistband of his boxers. The younger had his eyes closed before that moment, now his head was leaning back against the couch as blood started to head south.

A quiet moan slips out of his mouth as two hands gently grip the edge of his boxers to pull them down and off him. That callused hand rubbing the inside of his thigh as his legs spread instinctually. His breathing starts to pick up as lips follow that hand’s trail. Getting closer and closer to where he want that mouth. It’s only when he’s teasing that line that Steve stops in his tracks.

“Why’d you stop?” Scott asks breathlessly, looking down at the older man’s uncertain expression just inches from his groin.

“I’ve uh, never done this. With either sex to be clear.” Steve admits, smiling shyly as he rubs the man’s thigh.

“I have half the experience I guess, not with a guy though.” Scott admits himself, flipping their positions so that he’s over Steve and between his legs.

Too nervous and keyed up to learn what they should do, they end up using each other’s hands and mouths to get their releases. Doing the same in the shower before collapsing in bed together in each other’s arms. Scott’s tucked into Steve’s chest this time, relishing this after so many years of trauma building war and fighting. For all he cared Tony and the Avengers didn’t need to see their faces ever again if this was the life he could have.

“I love you Steve.” Scott whispers, smiling as the man’s arm tightened around him.

“Love you too Scott.” Steve replies, hugging him tight to his chest.

Scott has a splitting headache when he wakes up and subsequently curses every light and noise source in existence including his smoking hot partner. The man who very generously gets rid of all the light he can in their bedroom before leaving to grab a doctor to look at him. In the end it’s categorized as him being an idiot for jumping out of bed and into a fight not twenty-four hours after he was in a coma for nearly three months. They inject something into the base of his neck and he’s boneless and sleepy with the ache dulled to a throb. Steve turns on the television in their bedroom and lets him snuggle into his chest.

“How you feeling love?” The older man asks after a few episodes of some crime series.

“Better, remind me not to fight the ground ever again.” Scott slurs, eyes droopy as he watches the detectives on the show.

“With pleasure, you need anything?” He continues, rubbing into the man’s bare back with his fingers.

“Just you, maybe a little soup in a few hours.” The younger replies, sitting up a tad to snuggle more effectively into the man’s chest.

He falls asleep at the end of the episode, snoring heavily as Steve sneaks off to make him that soup. Leaving it simmering on the stove as he works through a small workout routine in the living room. Three hours later Scott shuffling into the kitchen to fill himself a bowl. He slurps down the well-cooked noodles as he watches Steve do his cool down yoga poses. In that moment he knows that he’ll never get tired of seeing that body, that ass in those tight workout shorts. That all of that was all his.

“My eyes are up here.” Steve says after straightening up from the last pose in his set.

“And your eyes are very pretty, but I think my time is better spent looking at what I want to.” Scott says softly, ladling himself another bowl of soup.

“Maybe you should wear tighter clothing, give me something to look at.” The older man offers, toweling off his sweaty neck and arms.

“I’m literally only wearing a robe and boxers, you want me to put on more clothes?” Scott asks, making sure he hearing the man right.

“No, just wanna make the most of his time, this…” Steve trails off, looking for the word.

“Domestic life, how normal we’re acting. Super soldiers playing house.” The man replies, giving him some options with a smile as he finishes that second bowl of soup.

“Yeah, that. It was a dream for me back before the ice, now I have it sort of and I don’t wanna let it go.” The older man admits, tears prickling in his eyes.

“The worlds not ending here, we can keep this.” Scott says, smiling as he moves into the bedroom with the other following him.

“What if Tony needs us again?” Steve says, watching the younger man’s shoulders tense at that.

Scott knows if he says something now he’ll regret those words as they come out of his mouth. So he just bites his lip and walks forward to let the older man take him into his sweaty arms. 

“Only if there’s no other way. We’ll stay away unless that happens.” Steve promises, holding the man close.

“Ok.” Scott says simply, allowing the older man to gently lie him on the bed before going to shower. 

Scott ends up taking another walk that next day, his head feeling a lot better then. Steve ends up asking to go with him, that puppy dog look of his breaking through Scott’s barrier without a second thought. The older man’s hand slips into his as soon as they’re in the park. It surprises him because it’s on the main path in the park where dozens of people are looking at them. It’s the first time the man’s been public about it and he smiles at the development. Nudging the man onto a side path that leads to that secluded little pond, the both smile and laugh at each other.

“So this is the stump you spent half a day on.” Steve muses, letting go of the man’s hand to reach down and untie his boots and fold his jacket.

“Yeah, this is the spot.” Scott chuckles, watching the man sink his bare feet into the lush grass before arranging the jacket on the ground so he can lie down in the grass and put his head on said fabric.

“I like it.” The older mumbles, sighing in content on how the grass cushions him and the sun warms his face.

Nodding, Scott settles on the stump and takes off his own shoes to set his feet on the cool grass. Those same birds chasing each other around the water in front of him. He closes his eyes and just takes in the sounds of those chirp, Steve’s strong breathing, and the creaking of the wood of the stump as he shifts his weight. 

“You know, I really never liked parks. Before the serum I was a mess of medical issues that probably would have killed me before the age of thirty. Pollen was an asthma attack waiting to happen, and at worst another bout of pneumonia to power through as a ninety-pound weakling. This is nice though, it’s peaceful, clean, and I have some I love with me.” Steve muses, breaking Scott out of his thoughts to listen to the mans.

“You’re such a romantic Steve, I love that.” Scott says, folding his own jacket to lie down next to the man with.

“I shouldn’t keep you from finding your own peace though, should I go?” The man asks, a genuine tone of understanding in his voice.

“No, like you said we should treasure every moment of this. Just in case shell head calls and ruins our vacation.” The younger whispers, laying his cheek on the man’s shoulder with a smile.

“Ok, but I’m gonna shut up and think a little. You do the same huh?” Steve says, intertwining their hands as they both look up at the sky.

Nodding, he squeezes the man’s hand once before relaxing the grip and letting himself zone out. He starts mulling over the words of the man beside him. About treasuring the moment before it’s gone, ruined. He knew that Steve had lost important people before he’d really gotten the change to enjoy them, to love them. They’d had a long talk about Peggy during a sparing match and he’d felt the hurt in the man raw voice. So with that feeling deep inside his stomach, he focuses his thoughts to the one memory that he needed think through.

_Scott had thought it was going to be a good day for a change. The desert heat was on the good side of warm rather than burning and the air didn’t stink of rotting sewage for once. He’d woken after a good nights rest and had a rousing debate over the best kind of cookie with his soldiers in the mess hall. The Colonel in usual demeanor had given him a smile and an easy mission for the day. Just to clear out a small town they thought the terrorists were starting to set up shop in. He’d given the order from the radio in his tent to suit up and meet in the vehicle bay. In his happy rush, leaving the neat stack of trading cards on the corner of his desk._

_“And here I was thinking that we had a day off.” Daniels says from his position leaning against the driver’s door of their lead Humvee, thumbing a picture in his hand._

_“You should know better to than to hope that Sergeant. How’re they?” The Captain asks, holding helmet in one hand as he throws an arm around his best friend’s shoulders._

_“Good, I got to talk to Katy over the video chat late last night. Seven pounds one ounce of a lot of noise.” The man said, voice choking up a little as he tilted the picture so that his best friend could see._

_The small infant was looking up at the camera with curious green eyes, obviously being held against his mother’s bare chest. Daniels thumbed through the small stack of pictures until he found the one he really wanted to show off. A picture of said boy smiling in the background as his unimpressed mother held up a sizable diaper loaded full. The caption written along the bottom in snapchat font was ‘waiting for uncle Scott to come change me.’_

_“Congrats Sam, he’s beautiful.” Scott says, squeezing the man’s shoulder with a misty smile._

_“Thanks Scott, I expect you to visit once we get out of this hellhole.” Daniels says, placing those photos in his breast pocket as the rest of the team showed up._

_“Someone’s gotta tell Katy all your embarrassing stories. C’mon, let’s get this done.” Scott says, separating from the man so that they can get into the vehicle._

_“And here I thought we were friends.” The man says, smiling as they drive out of the main gate of the base._

_“Well, I’ll definitely keep some to myself. Radio check 3-1.” The Captain says into the radio to make sure they have contact with the base and each other._

_“You know once I get out, my main mission is going to being a dad and a good husband. But my secret main mission is going to be finding you someone Cap. You need a reason to stop coming back here.” The Sergeant says, adjusting his sun glasses and helmet to get comfortable for the short drive._

_Scott doesn’t reply to it, only smiles with a fond shake of his head. Everyone that had tried to get close to him always ended up leaving because they couldn’t get him to care about them more than he cared about his military family. It wasn’t their fault, he just didn’t feel that connection that would make him give up years of relationships for something that could fall apart in his hands. Daniels and his family pulled at the urge to get out and have a normal life, but even it wasn’t enough._

_“Eyes up men, let’s get this done and go home.” The leader says as they pull up to the edge of the city._

_“Yes sir.” Most of the men say as they get out, leaving just Daniels and him alone in the Humvee._

_“I’m serious Scott, I don’t want you to die in this country.” The younger man says, patting his shoulder before reaching down to grab his rifle._

_“I guess you have your work cut out for you then.” Scott smiles, mirroring the man’s actions as they exit the vehicle._

_The tension in the village is palpable as he leads his men into it’s streets. Normally the civilians calm when they see him in command, knowing that this American won’t throw their lives away for the unpopular war. But the tension doesn’t go away and that fuels the ball of it in his own stomach as they make it to the market square that already deserted._

_“Dickers, take Bravo Company and get these civilians inside and safe. Somethings not right.” He orders, holstering his rifle on the magnet attached to his back before pulling out his pistol._

_“Yes sir.” Dickers replies, his orders for Bravo switching over to another channel._

_“Daniels, secure the western courtyard.” The Captain says, advancing on the chief’s hut with a mission._

_“There’s no way were leaving you to go in there alone.” The man tries, knowing it’s going to be futile._

_“You don’t make that call, I do.” Scott replies, no argument allowed with the tone of his voice._

_Pressing the thin wooden door open he comes face to face with what he was expecting. The chief on his knees with a shawl wrapped man standing over him flanked by no less than four guards. Setting his pistol back into his holster, he crosses his arms over his chest with an unimpressed stare._

_“Captain T’Perro, it is nice to finally meet you. The man making so much trouble for my organization.” The leaders says, his English rough but practiced._

_“Who am I speaking too?” Scott asks, drawing out his canteen to take a few sips as the guards stand tense._

_“Daknir. I suggest you leave this city Captain, let us have our home and you can wait until I come to take that base from you.” The man threatens, throwing aside the whimpering chief._

_“We both know that can’t happen Daknir. These people are under our protection no matter the flag I stand under. Leave now, I’m giving you that choice.” Scott says, letting his arms fall back by his side before stretching his neck._

_“You should never have come to his land American.” Daknir says, lifting his own pistol._

_Scott moves fast and manages to dodge the bullet, more erupting outside as his soldiers yell orders back and forth in his earpiece. The four guards go down with little issue, inexperienced compared to him and the years he’s invested in hand to hand fighting during his leaves. Daknir is a little harder to take down. The man having at least sixty pounds of muscle on him as they fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Daknir manages to get a combat knife free from under his shirt and thrusts it forward._

_Feeling the sting of metal ripping into the flesh of his leg, he doubles his effort and wraps his arms around the man’s neck even as he stabs that blade over and over into his leg and hip. The man goes still without breath and he has to collect himself before getting to unsteady feet. Pulling a tourniquet from his pocket, he wraps it around his thigh to stem the bleeding before tuning back into the sounds of fighting outside the doors._

_Taking his pistol out of his slick holster, he runs out of the room and towards the courtyard. Finding his men in heavy fighting matched in number to their fighters. Daniels looks up from his cover when he gets close to the fountain he’s been using for cover. Cringing at the amount of blood covering his Captain and the bruises littering his face._

_“Status?” Scott says, firing and taking down a handful of terrorists before turning his attention back to his concerned friend._

_“We’re holding strong, but their just as. You deal with the head asshole?” Daniels asks, firing over his shoulder to take down another group approaching them._

_“Course I did, wait are they falling back?” Scott asks, standing up as he watches the terrorists flee away from the courtyard._

_Daniels doesn’t get to answer before the shrill sound of a missile fills his ears. Throwing his weight onto his best friends, his world goes black as it impacts their position. Cracking open his eyes all he feels is numb pain as he tries to get up from his position on his back. Daniels is doing the same a few feet away from him, looking relatively unhurt, but there’s an anger in his eyes Scott knows is going to be directed at him for being a hero._

_His thoughts are cut short by a menacing laugh in the distance. From the dust, Daknir emerges with a smirk and a blooming bruise around his neck. His men systematically start executing his injured soldiers and the veins on his forehead are showing from how much effort he’s putting into trying to get up and protect them. Blood and dust are clogging his throat as he watches Daknir place his boot on Daniels throat, pressing down until the man’s panicking gaze goes slack and pales._

_Scott screams as he’s lifted onto his knees before the man, watching as he rifles through his best friends pockets in curiosity. Pulling out the blood-soaked pictures of his baby boy and laughing deeply. A kick to his stomach gets him screaming again as the man bends over and rips the pictures to pieces in front of him._

_“That’s a shame. Too bad the bomb cut you up Captain, I would have loved to spend some more time tearing you apart and streaming it to every military computer.” Daknir says, pressing the end of his pistol in the gaping wound showing the soldier’s guts to him._

_Black spots invade his vision and he’s almost in the sweet embrace of death as the man’s head explodes in front of him. Shout of American QRF forces coming in and decimating the terrorists around him. Slumping to the ground, he crawls over to Daniels and tries shaking his shoulder. Hoping that he’s still there, that this was just a dream. The man’s eyes click open briefly, though he can tell his best friend is on his last few breaths of life._

_“Scott don’t give up. Keep being you, and find someone. Don’t forget to visit the little shit, tell them I love them.” Daniels gasps, smiling before taking his last breath._

Sitting up with a harsh intake of breath, Scott snaps out of the memory with a sob. Steve’s strong arms wrapping around his shoulders, but staying quiet to let the man work through the memory. Tears are running down his partner’s face, well they have been for the past ten minutes, but the older man wasn’t going to pry just support. 

“I’m here Scott, it’s ok.” Steve whispers, holding the man tight as he starts to collect himself.

Suddenly Scott has a realization and he’s on his feet almost leaving Steve behind if not for the fact that they’re both fast super soldiers. It’s been over a year since that day and he needs to finish the promise that he made to his best friend. He needs to go see that little boy, tell them that Daniels loved them to the end of the earth. Give them more than a piece of paper, a visit to their front door, and more than a phone call. He makes it as far as the black tower before Steve can stop him, throwing them both into an empty supply closet.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asks, brows knitted together in confusion as he hold him against the wall.

“There’s something I need to do in the states. It’ll only take a week.” Scott explains, pressing past the man and out of the closet to start climbing stairs.

“Alone, or?” The older man asks as they reach the living room where T’Challa is eating lunch with his sister.

“Alone, you have to trust me with this. It’s nothing dangerous, just a condolence call I should have made a year ago for my best friend. I think this is the closure I need Steve, to let go of the army and move forward into my life with you.” He explains as the king walks over with a smile on his face and wisdom in his eyes.

“Where do you need to go friend?” T’Challa asks, giving a measured nod to reassure Steve that this was the right thing to let him do.

“Austin Texas, just for a week.” Scott says, getting a nod from the king and a flick of the hand to his guards. 

Within the hour he’s standing inside of a ship ready to depart with a suitcase of clothes for the week. Steve standing with him as the ship warms up for the short flight given the technology. Giving him that warm smile as he wraps his arms around him and places a kiss on his lips. 

“I’ll be waiting eagerly for your return. Be careful, there might still be some looking for us.” Steve reminds him, separating to rub his hands down the man’s arms.

“I will, try and take some time for yourself Steve. I know there’s still a lot of pain in that head of yours.” Scott replies, smiling back at him as the older man walks to the end of the ramp of the ship.

“I’ve tried doing that on my own Scott, I want you to come back and I’ll tell you everything.” Steve promises, squeezing the man’s hand before letting it go.

“Together then. Take some walks, love you.” The younger man says as the ramp starts to raise.

“Will do, love you too.” The older says, that smile covering his face as it closes.

Scott jerks awake as the ship cloaks and lands on the grassy outskirts of the cities airport. He shoves the transponder into his pocket to contact them before grabbing his bag and jumping the fence. His super speed makes the thirty-mile trip into the city a breeze and he’s barely sweating before making it to the neighborhood he’s looking for. Taking his hood off his head, he takes a deep breath before walking up the wooden deck steps to the suburb house painted dull green. An American flag blowing gently with the breeze with a name stitches in the corner. 

That was the flag they’d put over his best friend’s casket. Tracing his fingers over the sturdy material, he makes it to the front door. The first thing he hears is the sound of a baby babbling and laughing just beyond the material of the wooden door. Smiling, he knocks a few times, hearing a muffled woman’s voice as her footsteps hurry to the door. It opens to reveal the stunning brunette his best friend had always talked up. He’d never believed he had her until he was standing next to his shoulder at his wedding watching her walk down the aisle. Those green eyes are on him now, face softening in recognition.

“Scott, it’s been so long.” Katy says, smiling as she ushers him in to shut the door to cut down on the air conditioning she’s losing with it open.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Scott says, opening his arms as she hugs him tight.

“The Chaplin that came said you were injured, nothing more. I knew it had to be bad since you didn’t call about Sam before they got here. You seem different though.” She says, taking in his taller form with a little confusion.

Before he can respond, a small mass crashes into their legs. 

“Momma, who this?” The small boy asks, looking up at the stranger with curious eyes.

“This is Uncle Scott, he finally came to meet you buddy. Scott this is Arthur.” Katy says, picking the toddler up in her arms to pass to his.

“Hey little man.” Scott says, holding the boy close with a proud smile on his face.

“Hi.” Arthur says, lying his head against the man’s shoulder with sleepy eyes.

“It’s almost nap time, c’mon we can talk in the living room.” Katy says, grabbing his suitcase to go put into the guest bedroom before going him on the couch.

Arthur is content to stay snuggled in his arms as soon as he gets his Hulk logoed blanket. It makes him smile in a stupid way and Katy cocks her head at him in confusion. A few tears come into his eyes, but don’t fall as he thinks of the missed experience of Sam not getting to have this. 

“So, what happened?” She asks, setting a warm cup of tea in the hand that wasn’t holding her son.

“I got injured then yeah, but you know those stupid stories I told you about Captain America?” He asks, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“What the super soldier that got his powers from some lab and saved the world? The guy in the news with all those other super heroes? What about them?” She asks with a laugh in her voice, remembering all those dreamy stories from her husband’s best friend.

“What if I told you that some lab did that to me after I was paralyzed in the explosion that killed him? That I’m Sentinel.” Scott said softly, looking at the floor as an expression of surprise came over her face.

Katy nods and then gets up after a moment. Disappearing into a back room of the house before coming back with a scrapbook. Sitting close beside him, she opens it to reveal countless news clips of his unit before the incident. Then the picture of him when he was on the run from the lab. And last countless magazine covers and news articles of Sentinel the newest Avenger. Also in her hands was a small action figure of him.

“It’s Arthur’s favorite. Scott, I’m glad you get to keep helping people like you were made to do, protecting them. When I asked what happened I wasn’t referring to you bulking up and getting super soldier powers. You found someone didn’t you?” She asks, smiling up in a knowing way as she sets the book and action figure on the table.

“Let’s just say there’s gonna be some disappointed woman to learn that a certain Captain is taken.” Scott chuckles, and her face breaks out in a mirth filled smile.

“Captain America and you, why am I not surprised? I’m happy for you Scott, you deserve that kind of peace.” She says, wrapping her slimmer arm around his shoulders.

“I hope so.” He says, getting a warning poke and a fond shake the woman’s head for his jab at himself.

“Shut it mister. So did you bring him with you?” She asks as he shakes his head with a smile.

“Well damn, that’s no fair.” She adds, laughing.

They stay quiet for a while. Scott soaking in the quiet suburb life as Arthur drooled over his arm with quiet snores. 

“Do you wanna talk about, Sam?” He has to ask, feeling her tense up against his side.

“Not unless you have something good to say. I’ve gotten closure Scott, and I think you have too now. All that matters is making sure Arty here knows that his father was a hero and a good man.” Katy explains, reaching over to rub her son’s small arm.

“His last words were for me to visit the little shit, Arty here. And that he loved you and him.” That’s all he can say until he’s choked up and holding back tears of his own.

“Then you kept your promise, and thank you.” She says, wiping her own tears. “Not that I don’t want you here, but aren’t you and Cap fugitives?”

“We are, staying in a secure place though. I can go if you want, keep you two safe.” He says, brushing his fingers through the boy’s soft hair.

“I think you should get back to your new life Scott, be happy. We’ll always be here if you want to come visit. Thank you for coming.” She says, hugging him tight as Arthur wakes up and moves from his lap to hers.

He’s standing just short of the front door with a smile on his face as that nagging feeling finally settles and fades from his chest. Arthur runs into his leg and has tears in his eyes. Kneeling down he scoops the boy into his arms and holds him tight. Setting him down he pulls out a small device and hands it to Katy who’s standing close by. 

“Call if you need anything.” He says, placing a kiss to the boy’s forehead before letting him go.

“We will, you just stay safe. Oh, and here. They didn’t know where to send it so they gave it to me.” Katy says, placing the communicator aside to shove a small footlocker at him.

“Thanks. Bye Arthur, I gotta go be Sentinel for a bit. You listen to your mom, love you buddy.” Scott says, tears in his eyes as he hugs the boy close again before doing the same for his mother.

“Bye-bye.” Arthur says, waving from where his mother is holding him now.

“Bye-bye little man.” He says, taking his leave with a long sigh.

He runs back to the ship at a slower pace, the crew surprised to have him back so soon. The flight back is easier for him, a real sense of closure finally settling in his body. It’s early morning when they make it back to Wakanda. Scott rubbing his sore eyes from the jet lag as he makes his way to the room with his footlocker in one hand and his unused suitcase in the other. Steve’s out cold curled on his side of the bed and it makes Scott smile as he sets down both containers.

Flipping open his footlocker, he’s met with the rank smell of the Middle East and him. Grabbing a garbage can, he makes short work of throwing away most of his old uniforms. Keeping one set of clean fatigues and his dress uniform for the memories. The heavy box of his medals is set off to the side for later. A smile graces the edge of his face as he takes out his stacks of journals and maps. Reaching the bottom, emotion wells up in his throat at the pictures of his soldiers over the years. But tucked in a corner is something that really winds him. The trading cards are wrapped in some napkins, still intact.

Piling the rest back into the trunk, he shoves it out of the way beside the couch and takes the cards to the kitchen counter. Carefully separating out each one, he smiles at them as a wave of fatigue hits him. Rubbing his eyes again, he takes a shower and dresses in a clean pair of underwear before slipping into bed with Steve. Pressing the man back onto his own side of the bed, he let him snuggle into his chest as he lulls off to join the other in slumber.

The next morning he wakes up slowly to the blankets wrapped around his shoulders and the curtains drawn to keep the dawn’s light from waking him up too early. Rolling himself out of bed, he grabs his thin black robe and drapes it around his shoulders before padding into the kitchen. Steve isn’t in there and that confuses him a little, but then again the man wasn’t obligated to stay in the same room with him when he slept in. The jet lag is still making his mind a little fuzzy as he makes himself lunch now that he sees what time it is. He’s just finishing up his turkey sandwich when the main door opens to reveal a sweaty Steve carrying his familiar workout bag. 

“Hey handsome.” Scott greets, taking a bite of his sandwich as Steve comes over to lean against the counter next to him.

“Hi, you were back soon.” The man says, tossing his bag to the side after grabbing a thin towel to wipe his sweat off with.

“Yeah, I got what I needed though. You should shower, you stink a little.” Scott adds with a smirk.

“Join me?” Steve counters with a smirk of his own.

“Let me finish lunch.” The younger says, shaking his head as he doubled his effort in scarfing down his sandwich as that sweat soaked and beautifully framed ass walked away from him toward the bedroom.

Steve’s naked as the day he was born and testing the heat of the water as he steps into the bathroom. Quickly shedding his rob and underwear he waits until the man steps into the spray before following suit. At least Wakanda and Stark had similar investments in good showers. The waterfall sprays that had enough force to work out the tense muscles on both of their bodies. Scott caves as Steve starts to wash both of them, their hair first and then their bodies. 

“You haven’t shaved in a while.” Scott mentions, running his fingers through the half inch long stubble gracing the man’s face, noticing his hair had grown out a little too.

“You don’t like it?” Steve asks, running the soapy loofa up and down his partner’s back with a kiss to his cheek.

“I love it, you usually don’t.” He replies, running his fingers over the man’s toned abs to earn a shudder.

“Thought I’d try it for a week or two, see if I like it as much as you seem to.” The man explains, his words getting choppy as his partner’s hand roams further south to grasp his destination.

“That sounds…” Scott starts to say as a loud series of knocking comes at the door.

Scott manages to jump out of the shower first and throw a towel around his hip. Dripping water, he opens the door to reveal the large warrior from the other day M’Baku. He looks worried and as much angry.

“You said before that you would like to help Wakanda with her problems?” M’Baku asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, what’s going on?” Scott asks, inviting the man inside their apartment as he worked to dry off and find where he threw his armor.

“We have word that a few high-ranking members of the tribe are going to start a coup in one of the government building to the south. We want your help in containing the potential damage and to protect our people.” The leader explains, looking to Steve as he pulls on his boots.

“We’ll be there.” The older man says.

It takes them three more minutes to gather their weapons before following the mountain leader downstairs and into the tunnels that connect the city. In minutes they’re in the basement of the tower the coup is to take place in. Steve starts herding civilians out of the lower levels and he follows M’Baku upstairs. They get to the floor as an explosion rocks the building. It doesn’t take the two warriors long to find the men rebelling and even less to take them down fatally given the crumbling circumstances around them. 

There’s a ship outside of the window that he’s basically hurling civilians into the as the structure crumbles around them. Someone is shouting in M’Baku’s ear about the building almost being clear when a sicken shudder runs through the vibranium under his feet. Scott watches as the floor starts collapsing in on itself, promising the threat of burial if he doesn’t move fast. M’Baku is holding a small child as the ceiling starts coming down. Making a choice Scott grabs the man by the back of his armor and uses his super soldier strength to throw him into the shuttle as well. He’s about to jump to join them when a heavy beam comes down from the ceiling and cracks him across the head. Throwing him into the center of the collapsing building as his world goes dark.

Steve swears as he just misses getting crushes by a piece of falling debris. Luckily everyone had managed to get clear of the building in time and those that had caused all this were either dead or in custody. T’Challa comes to stand next to him, looking at the remains of the tower in anger. Teams are already here to clear the rubble and get life back to normal in the city. The air is calm for the moment, at least until a shuttle lands nearby and M’Baku comes running up to them uncharacteristically out of breath.

“We need scanning devices my king, Scott, the Sentinel is still in that rubble.” M’Baku says and suddenly the color disappears from Steve’s face.

“Shuri, we need your expertise.” T’Challa calls over his ear piece, holding the Captain’s arm to keep him back from jumping into the rubble to search himself.

“Already above you brother, I have a life sign twenty meters in the rubble here. If you dig straight down it shouldn’t trigger any other debris falling.” The younger sister explains, and suddenly a coordinate lock appears on all of their visors.

“Can you get any specific vital signs?” The Captain has to ask as they start throwing rubble to the side, the king, M’Baku, several guards from the tower, and him.

“We made some augmentations to your armors Captain, I can tell if his toe is twitching from miles away. His breathing is shallow, heart beat steady, and brain activity is a little panicked but steady.” The woman explains, giving Steve a little peace of mind.

“Injuries?” He has to keep asking, throwing several ton scraps of metal aside.

“I can’t tell the specifics, but he’s stable for the time being Captain.” She explains.

In reality she could see down to every torn blood vessel, but she had enough sense to keep such specifics from loved ones in situations like this. Sending the scans of broken bone, torn muscles, and bleeding reports to her lab back at the dark tower. She’d of course heard of the super soldiers from her brother, but getting to see them work and see their enhanced healing abilities would be the better part of that relationship. Her eyes shot back to the displays as she watches the man’s heart rate and respiration rate climb, then she saw the second heat signature. 

Scott grinded his teeth together as he held up the building from crushing down on the pocket they were in. The young boy, no more than seven years old was huddled next to him. Having crawled relatively unshaved to the super soldier’s side not long ago, he was shaking now as the building groaned above them. His body was screaming out with the energy it was taking to quell the pain in his body and use his arms to hold the slab of metal from crushing the both of them. With his legs trapped, it was all he could do to keep it up.

His vision was starting to get fuzzy and his breathing was labored. God, Steve was going to murder him for getting hurt again. Being that self-sacrificing asshole that must have been built into that serum for how much they both do it. The boy’s whimpering pleas keep him conscious but he swears he’s losing it because the weight he’s holding up is getting lighter. Maybe he’s in the body building version of a runner’s high, but with the amount of blood he’s probably losing he thinks delirium is more likely. Until of course light starts shining in his eyes and Steve’s worried expression looks down at his dust covered one.

“Hey handsome.” Scott groans, grabbing the kid around his waist to lift him up first.

M’Baku takes the child as the other warriors continue to clear the debris to make a hole big enough to move him without making his condition any worse. Steve’s cursing Shuri over the radio when she starts revealing that she can tell what his injuries are. That they shouldn’t move him because a piece of vibranium shaped like a rebar rod is imbedded dangerously close to his spine and in far enough that it’s torn into his liver slightly. Luckily that metal isn’t attached to the building anymore so they don’t have to cut it to free him.

“I’m gonna wrap you in bubble wrap and stuff you in the closet for a month after this.” Steve promises, grabbing the backboard from one of the medics. 

The medics gently work to bind his legs together and secure his arms to his chest. Fitting him with a neck brace and waving him forward with the board. Two of the warriors gently lift him so that the super soldier can slide it under, one wrapping towels around the metal sticking out from the man’s back so that he can lie on his back but not have it move. Scott’s eyes are threatening to flutter shut as they strap him down to the board and attach the lift cables to the sides.

“Fine by me.” Scott mumbles through a bloody and dusty smile.

They’re all in a shuttle within minutes, flying fast towards the main tower to get him the best medical care in probably the world. Scott furls his brow as they land and he’s moved down familiar and unfamiliar hallways. Descending down a lift, Shuri meets them as they exit into what looks like a brightly lit lab. Suddenly being strapped down and thinking he’s in a lab makes his heart rate climb. He even manages to break the restraints and almost fall off the back board as they set him down.

“Easy Scott, you’re ok.” Steve says, kneeling at his eyes level with a strained smile.

“A relative term, help me move him to the main table please.” Shuri instructs, pointing to the floating platform in the middle of the circular room. 

Scott groans deeply as he’s moved. His armor expertly removed by Steve and the woman. T’Challa appears by their sides a moment later dressed in sterile clothing. Going through familiar motions he fits the injured soldier with an oxygen mask and inserts an IV to start feeding him fluids and sedatives. Steve’s eyes widen when the sedatives and pain killers actually seem to work.

“They’re slow release nerve inhibitors. We’ve seen the medical files from Stark Tower, we’re sorry you two suffered so much when trying to heal.” Shuri explains, gently cleaning around the metal in the man’s back.

“Thank you. Is there anything I can do?” Steve asks, rubbing his arm.

“Take his and your armor to my workbench. Once I’m done fixing him up, I think we’ll make use of our supply of vibranium to give you two more protection in those uniforms. You two risked your lives to keep our people safe, we appreciate it.” Shuri explains, her brother nodding along her as he passed a jar of vibranium healing pellet and synthetic gel to her.

Nodding he does just that, left in his undersuit as he watches from a distance as Shuri operates on his partner. It only takes minutes before that shard of vibranium lands in a medical tray with a clang. Shuri’s face is drawn up in concentration as she works on stitching up the super soldier’s back. Paying careful mind to the man’s damaged spinal cord, frowning at the weak nerves responses she was getting when she tested his legs. The vibranium gel and the man’s healing serum was already working wonders before her eyes.

The bones that were once fractures in his shoulders were already knitting back together. The worse breaks were doing the same, all she had to do was pin them in place so that he couldn’t move and make them worse. All in all having a building dropped on top of him had only resulted in a serious back injury, some bruised, ribs, and a hyper extended hip joint. Working with her knowledge of his prior injuries she also slathered a good deal of gel on his temples and stomach. Shaking her head at the reports she’d read. 

Ten hours of surgery without pain medication or sedatives would have driven most warriors away from battle. But these two soldiers kept coming back and testing their super serum to its limits. Her brother and she admired them for it as did many other warriors in Wakanda. She just hoped that they would find peace, not more violence in their stay here. Lying a cooling cushion down, she gently lied the man on his back with it cushioning the small of his back where the wound was. Setting another under his head, she gently took off the oxygen mask and while her brother laid a thick blanket over him.

“How is he?” Steve asks, having sat down in a chair to watch them work.

“His spinal cord is damaged, we’ll have to see what the vibranium and serum do to heal it. I’m still getting weak reflexes in his feet though, so not full paralyzation.” She explains, lowering the lighting in the room after giving the man another dose of both the pain medication and the sedative to keep him under a little longer.

“Thank you. How did you perfect a pain med for us?” He has to ask, because it if was easy he would be throttling Stark the next chance he got for putting both of them through that much pain.

“Your metabolisms burn off pain medications and sedatives before they have a chance to work on your nerves. If you make a chemical formula that attaches to your nerve receptors first and then filters into your blood, the effects are much more immediate and last longer despite metabolisms. If you used this on people without your abilities, you could paralyze their autonomous functions, breathing and such.” She explains, watching the injured soldier’s vitals while they talked to make sure everything was working as it should.

She smiles at the relief plain on his face, grabbing a data pad to pull up his vitals as she walked over to her workbench where their armors were laid out. Pulling up four new mannequins she arranges their armor as it is not on two of them. T’Challa has the Captain sit back down in a chair beside him as they watch her work. Carefully duplicating both of their styles onto a schematic before adding in the vibranium elements. 

In the end they end up looking identical to their old armors, but the metals and protective padding on their chests, legs, and upper arms and helmets are all replaced with heavy duty vibranium. The parts that need to be flexible get the Kevlar fabric with smaller amounts of the metal weaved throughout. When she starts running diagnostic tests, the armor is two hundred and thirty percent more protective than it used to be and will absorb hits half as well as the man’s shield. 

“Where?” Scott asks, and Steve suddenly realizes that they’ve been watching the woman work for close to four hours now.

“You’re awake, don’t move too much just yet.” Shuri orders, rushing over to the confused man’s side.

“Hey, listen to the lady will you?” Steve reaffirms, grasping his hand in both of his.

“Scott, can you try and move your toes for me?” She asks, lifting the blanket until his knees down are showing.

Scott’s brow furls in drugged concentration as he tries to move them. Shuri smiles a little as his feet twitch along with his legs. None of it is coordinated enough to say he’s on his way to a full recovery, but it’s a step in the right direction. Recovering him with the blanket, she gently tests his reflexes and levels of activity in his nerves below the injuries. Finding them already improving from the time of the surgery, she nods with a smile to the Captain. 

“How about we get you into a real bed to sleep this off?” She offers, directing her brother to get a very comfy looking hospital bed ready in the darker corner of her lab.

“Sounds good.” He says, voice quiet and tired.

Steve gently lifts him from the exam table and into the bed. It’s at least a full-sized bed and with enough blankets and pillows to make Scott smile at the comfort of it. He’s so unused to being both comfy and injured that it feels like a dream. With that comfort he’s asleep in no time, snoring softly with his IV stand and the oxygen tank nearby just in case he needs it. The older soldier lies down in much of the same way he did when the man had taken on the ground in mortal combat, good hips touching and a gentle hand going through the man’s hair.

“I’d like to honor you two when he’s well. You both deserve it after today.” T’Challa comments, handing the Captain a blanket just in case he wanted it.

“We were just helping.” Steve says, really not wanting the familiar empty ceremonies.

“You risked your lives for people you didn’t know, and many of my council are calling for this. It will be a small ceremony, I promise. But for now, just rest.” The king says, taking his leave to go run his country.

The pair falls asleep to the sound of Shuri tinkering with their suits. She gives Steve a half dose of the sedative to keep him under, her scans showing that his body needed the rest after decades of not getting it. Scott gets another full dose to keep him under as the two healing agents pick up their pace on repairing the damage to his body. They both end up waking a day and a half later, Scott first as he feels the overwhelming need to relieve himself. Finishing that matter, Steve awakes when he gets sat back in bed. He’d smiled that walking was of little issue after the healing, a little unsteady in his steps but functions nevertheless.

“Your ceremony is in three hours, here these are for your two.” Shuri smiles, handing them each a folded set of Wakandan clothing.

Steve helps Scott into his rich green suit and after he changed into his dark navy blue one. Shuri gently explains to them that it will be a small ceremony like her brother said. Only the council and maybe a dozen others. The younger super soldier gets a small cocktail of stimulants to take the pain off and give him some energy to get around. They’re also told that they’re allowed back in their apartment to rest and recover after.

“Those drugs are really nice.” Scott says, smiling as they ride up to the desired floor in the elevator.

“They are. I’m gonna punch Stark for not thinking of them.” Steve replies, watching the other carefully even though he looked steady on his feet for the moment.

The door opens to the five seats of the council room. Like Shuri said, a dozen or so onlookers that were really just tribal elders and close family. T’Challa sits on the throne smiles and waves them forward to stand in the middle of the circle. M’Baku comes forward and drapes a rich purple shawl over their shoulders that drapes down to their belts. The normally feared warrior has misty eyes as he pats Scott on the shoulder with gratitude clear in his eyes.

“Scott T’Perro and Steve Rogers. You arrived in our country as refugees of a battle that you should never had have to fight. Now you’ve given back to Wakanda and performed inspirational and truly acts of selfless warriors. It is with this that I would like to award you citizenship in Wakanda.” The king says, walking forward with a pair of necklaces with panther claws to drape over each man’s neck.

“The shawls are from my village, marks of true and selfless warriors.” M’Baku adds, smiling in appreciation.

“It’s an honor.” They both say at the same time, smiling a little as they do.

“It is, a very rare status for an outsider to obtain. We’ll have a feast tonight for dinner, but please go rest.” T’Challa says, shaking both of their hands.

It doesn’t take long for the medicinal energy to start wearing off under the needs of his healing body. Scott barely makes it to the front door, leaning slightly on Steve as they make for the bed. He gets undressed by the older man and does himself before slipping into bed together. Lying on his stomach, he hums in content as the Captain runs his fingers over the steadily healing scar on the man’s lower back. The thin brace still positioned snuggly on his hip to keep it in place as the muscles healed along with the fractures. 

“We could stay here.” Scott mumbles, waiting for the rest of the stimulants to run their course through his body so that he could pass out before dinner.

“I know, and I think we will unless the tin can calls.” Steve chuckles, kissing him on the shoulder.

“Fuck the tin can.” The younger slurs, his eyelids starting to droop.

“Language love, but I agree.” The older whispers, kissing up his shoulder to his cheek.

Scott’s drooling on his pillow within minutes, Steve gently rubbing up and down his back under the blankets he’d pulled over the young man’s shoulders. Shuri lets herself in with a smile and puts three bottles of pills on the nightstand closest to him. 

“These two are his, pain killer and sedative if he needs them. This one is yours, half dose sedative if you want to fall asleep a little easier some nights. Drink plenty of water with each or you’ll have a nice headache as a side effect. As always, do not take in excess.” Shuri explains, patting his bare shoulder before taking her leave.

Steve’s making himself a cup of tea later than evening when someone knocks on his door. Walking over clad in his new and very comfy Wakandan clothes, he opens the door to reveal a smiling T’Challa along with Shuri, M’Baku, and Nakia holding trays of food and drink. He steps aside to let them in, taking a heavy looking and divine smelling tray from Shuri to set down on the kitchen counter. Scott barely twitches in bed, still snoring into his pillow.

“We thought it best to have dinner in here, to not strain Scott with too much movement.” T’Challa says, smiling as Nakia throws a tapestry over the dining table before setting it.

“That’s thoughtful, thank you. I’ll do my best to get him up.” Steve says, walking to the bedroom as the other’s organize and arrange dinner.

Smiling, he shakes the younger man’s shoulder until he groans and cracks open his eyes. It takes a few moments for him to fully get up and sit up. Steve gently explains the dinner plans while rubbing the soreness from his lower back. He gently helps him to the kitchen, a little unsteady on his feet as his body finishes up the last of the healing process. Scott’s all smiles when he gets to the table though, sitting down and smiling at the plate of mouthwatering food that gets set in front of him. The younger man is a beacon of happiness as he socializes with others, and Steve finds himself falling impossibly more in love with him as he lights up the room.

“So Tony says shit and Steve goes language.” Scott says even imitating his partner’s voice as he dissolves into giggles as the rest of the table laughs.

“Very funny. That joke will never end.” Steve mumbles, shaking his head as he sips the sweet Wakandan wine.

“It’s a good one, so would two like to stay here in the tower? Or should we find a true home for you in the city or countryside?” M’Baku asks, fork stabbing into a piece of juicy meat.

“We’ll have to talk about that, but the option is nice to have.” The older man says at first, then looks at Scott’s hesitant expression.

“One in the country, preferably by a waterfall away from prying eyes.” Scott says after Steve nudges his too.

“Than can be arranged, we’ll let you know.” T’Challa says, a warm and happy smile on his face.

They talk for a few more hours and effectively polish off what’s left of their meal between two super soldiers, two strong warriors, and the woman. Scott’s back starts to act up as they’re cleaning. Shuri is quick to get him a glass of water and the pills. Slamming back both, he limps to his bed and collapses there. After the others leave, Steve gently undresses the both of them again before turning off the lights in the kitchen and bedroom.

He doesn’t feel the drive to fall asleep like usual. To distracted by the events of the day, finding out that they could have whatever home they wanted now. It brought a smile to his face, but some guilt in his stomach. In a way he felt like he was running away from America and hiding in another country for the hell of it. He didn’t know if he could stay here forever, but if some peace and quiet could make Scott happy for a few years in the country with his waterfall it’d be worth it. Reaching over to grab his pill bottle, he downs the glass of water he usually puts on his bedside table before taking it.

Steve ends up leaning in the doorway of their small two-bedroom two-bathroom one story home on the edge of the Wakanda city outskirts. Smiling as he watches Scott unpack their meager belongings and put them around the house. In a way it feels like the homecoming he should have had after the war, only he’s in more comfortable clothing and with a guy, his guy. Glancing outside, he sees the small waterfall just beyond a small untended garden. They’re surrounded by a dense tree line that shield them from the city and the rural farms. It’s a nice seclusion.

“You gonna stand there all day, or come in and help me fold your undies?” Scott yells from their bedroom.

“You don’t need to fold underwear you dummy.” Steve says with a fond shake of his head and his new smile as Scott dubbed it, his cheek splitting grin.

“And you don’t need to stand in the doorway admiring our new home without me.” The younger says, yelping as Steve takes him into his arms and kisses him deeply.

Scott’s smiling against his lips as he backs them up to their new bed. The backs of the younger man’s knees hitting the edge of the bed and falling back on it with the older situated in between his spread legs. Steve goes to say something stupid and mushy, but it gets cut off when his partner’s hand grabs his collar and tugs him down further into another kiss. Suddenly the older man’s head is getting light with the force of it, mouth opening as the younger’s tongue comes up and invades his mouth.

“C’mon, let’s not get interrupted this time. I want all of you Steve.” Scott whispers against his lips, reaching one of his hands down to cup the older man’s thickening member.

The seems to flip a switch in the older man and suddenly he all but ripping their clothes off. Thank some god that Wakanda made their clothes with vibranium stitching or they would have been in shreds by now. Steve doesn’t make love to him that afternoon, no he takes what’s his and let’s that possessive side run loose for three rounds. Scott’s barely there when the older man drops them into a warm bath to scrub away the remains of their sinful activity. There’s a good ache in his lower back and hips and it has him smiling like a fool as he leans back against that bare chest in the water.

“You sure you’ve never been with a guy?” Scott has to ask, because damn that was the best sex of his short life.

“Beginner’s luck, you ok?” Steve has to ask, because he saw the developing bruises he’d left on the man before bringing him into the tub.

“It’s a good sore, someone’s possessive.” The younger chuckles, humming as Steve drags a sponge over his chest.

“Sorry, we can go slow next time. I just wanted to finally have you.” The older mumbles against his shoulder.

“I know the feeling, thanks for doing this. This domestic living thing. I can tell it’s killing you in some ways, not being in the U.S. fighting to save the world. We don’t have to stay here for forever, just a little bit please.” Scott whispers, closing his eyes as the man behind him kisses from his shoulder to up his neck.

“I think I can manage a few years of peace with you.” Steve says, feeling his member twitch with the promise of a fourth round.

“Let’s take it slow then.” Scott says, reaching back to sink down on the older man with a deep sigh.

“You got it.” Steve groans.

Their honeymoon period lasts a grand total of about three months before Scott starts to see the itch come back under his partner’s skin. He’s in the middle of pulling weeds from the vegetable section of their small garden. Glancing down at the small indent under his gloves on his pointer finger, he smiles at the feel of the dark blue vibranium ring Steve had gotten him. Not a formal proposal the man had assured, just a promise and a nice gift a few weeks before the holidays. It kind of made him feel like the man was trying to mark him as his, and he found himself liking it.

He’s broken out of his weeding and musing when a pair of footsteps runs up and slows at the edge of the trail marking the entrance to their home’s yard. He doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve has his hands on his hips and that his chest is rising and falling with the exertion of his long run. He’d taken to timing them recently, and they’ve been getting longer and longer. The man had promised him a couple years, but Scott wasn’t selfish enough to do that to him it he was already getting jumpy a few months in.

“Oh, the tomatoes look ready. Can we have spaghetti tonight?” Steve asks, as Scott has to quirk his eyebrow a little at how excited he sounds when just a moment he was thinking the man was tired of his domestic life.

“I suppose, did you have a nice run?” Scott asks, leaning back on his haunches with a sigh.

“Yeah, I found another trail off to the north there. I had this awesome stream with these reflective fish, sorry if I took longer.” The older man says, but he still tilts his head at the look his partner is giving him.

Steve puts his hands on his hips again when Scott goes back to weeding the garden without so much as pushing the issue of his runs getting longer. He can see that it’s bothering the younger man, that muscle in his jaw standing out as his works. His mother had always told him that loving someone would be easy, it was when you chose someone to spend the rest of your life that it got difficult. Steve was still holding onto the box that held the ring that she’d given him to give to the woman he fell in love with. It was a simple gold band with two diamonds bordering an emerald. He just hoped if his mother was looking down on him she wouldn’t mind him slipping it onto Scott’s finger in the future.

“Hey, what’s wrong handsome?” Steve asks, kneeling down to run his thumb over that tense muscle.

“Are you happy here? Being this domestic and not knowing what the world is doing around us?” Scott asks, ripping out a few weeds with a scowl.

“Of course I am. I’ve been exploring and getting used to this place. I’m really happy Scott, in fact wait a minute.” Steve says, getting up and jogging to the house.

Scott’s sitting on the padded swing beside their garden when he jogs back out. Thumbing that dark blue band on his finger as he looks out across their yard. His stare doesn’t change directions until Steve stands right in front of him. The man kneels down in front of him with a hesitant smile and something in his hands that the younger man can’t get a good look at.

“These past few months have been the best in my life Scott, even overshadowing the time I had with Peggy. I finally feel like I’m something other than a tool for war, other than a shield, other than Captain America. With you I can just be Steve. I love you Scott and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Steve says, uncovering the small black box in his hands, opening it to reveal the delicate band inside.

“It was my mothers. She gave it to me for the lucky dame I was gonna get one day. But I think if she saw us she wouldn’t mind me giving to you. I had Shuri reinforce the gold with vibranium, it won’t break. Will you marry me?” Steve finally asks, taking the man’s right hand in his while getting the ring out of the box with his other.

It takes Scott’s slightly sunbaked brain a few moments to realize what’s happening. But when it does there are tears streaming down his cheeks as his jaw quivers with emotion. In the back of his mind he can hear Sam Daniels cheering and slamming drinks in heaven. Probably betting with all his other soldiers when this would actually happen. Scott can’t manage words right now, so he just nods and smiles as Steve slips the band onto his ring finger.

“Listen, no matter what happens. No matter if he fight some days or have too much of each other days. Just know that I’ll always love you.” Steve finishes, kissing him passionately on the lips.

Steve wastes little time in picking him up around the waist and hauling him into the bedroom for the next three hours. Ok, so maybe their honeymoon period wasn’t totally finished just yet. Scott manages to get them through a shower without more intimacy. Then pushes the man towards his garage while he goes back to the garden to collect what they need for dinner. Steve had somehow managed to get T’Challa to give him a ship back to the U.S. for a few days after they’d been settled at home for a month. Scott had come home from the market to see him offloading his old WWII and SHIELD motorcycles into the garage he’d built a week prior. Now it was a chore to get him out of the said garage.

Night starts to fall when the man comes out of it without having to be gotten. Grease stained face perking up at the smell of simmering tomato sauce in their home. Scott knew it was one of his favorite meals, which is why he had to keep a good stock of flour and grains to make the noodles in their pantry. Scott and him usually went into the city a few days a week to help with different projects given their skills and strength. It guaranteed them a well-earned income even though the king had assured them such wasn’t necessary.

“Smells divine.” Steve says, almost to the threshold of the kitchen before Scott levels him with a look that has him beelining for the showers to avoid the man’s wrath.

“That’s better.” Scott says when he emerges from the hallway freshly showered and clean.

“Yeah, yeah.” The older man says, shaking his head as he finishes toweling off his hair.

Rolling his eyes, Scott brings the pot of noodles to the table to set next to the sauce pan. Steve sets down the towel on a kitchen stool and joins him on the other side of said table. Even though it’s not his thing, he waits for Steve to finishing mumbling grace to himself before digging into the food. He remembers, Tony he thinks, making fun of Cap for still believe in God after everything they’ve seen in their fights. Scott also remembers having a front seat to the beat down that had ensured, laughing at each plea the billionaire had thrown his way.

“What are you smiling at?” Steve asks, halfway into his second plate.

“Just remembering how you convinced Tony that religion was not something to joke about.” Scott says, twirling his fork in his own noodles.

“Hmm, I remember that. You don’t have one right, a religious belief?” The older man asks, vaguely considering that they might have had this conversation before.

“No, not since I joined up anyway. War has a habit of making you believe that if there was a god, he doesn’t have very good plans for us.” The younger man explains after swallowing the mouthful he was chewing.

“Makes sense.” Steve says, not wanting to start an argument over something like that with his partner.

They both get distracted from their meal and conversation as Steve’s old flip phone vibrates on the sofa. The man’s brow furls as he bolts up to go grab it, knowing that it was only supposed to be used in emergencies by the other Avengers to get a hold of him. Flipping it open, he reads over the text message and sighs in relief. Just another text from Natasha asking where the hell they were. Sitting back down at the table, he puts his face in his hands.

“As soon as I answer her, she’ll have a lock on our position.” Steve mumbles, knowing that Scott is already aware of their little predicament with hiding like this.

“I know, maybe we should go to her. It’ll will be Christmas in a few weeks.” Scott offers, watching the other man’s eyes go wide as the proposal.

“You sure? We could get arrested.” The Captain says, not to convincingly as his face betrays his giddiness to go back for even a few weeks especially for the holiday Wakanda didn’t celebrate.

“Course, we can scare the shit out of her while were at it too.” The younger chuckles, leaning back with a full stomach as Steve reaches for a third plate.

M’Baku bids them a good holiday as they set out for the coordinates of Natasha’s phone. It’s a relatively quiet flat tucked away under and overpass. But as Scott takes a quick peek through the barred windows, it’s nicely furnished and well secured. He has a good mind to know that he’d be in a lot of pain right now if he couldn’t turn invisible at will. So backing away from the window as soon as he sees Natasha walk toward the kitchen, he readies his trick.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring at the dumb looking delivery man that had his face covered with a face mask given the cold with a look that could kill.

She’d just wanted to have a nice holiday in her second-best safe house. Now she was going to have to consider moving since this man had shown up at her door with a box big enough to stuff two bodies into. Well at least with that knowledge she could probably stuff his a little over six foot frame into it when this was all said and done.

“A package for you Miss Romanov.” The man says with a smile and her heartbeat is in hear ears at hearing her last name.

In a moment she has him on the ground with a knife to his throat. Ripping off the wool face mask reveals the man’s identity to her and she almost slices his throat just for the hell of it.

“What the fuck Scott.” She says, getting up from where she was straddling his chest to slip the knife back into her hidden holster.

“Could you at least open the box to make this worth it?” He groans getting up off the snowy ground.

She kicks a hole in the side of the sturdy box and gets a startled yelp from Steve as it impacts his thigh. The older man makes an entertaining show as he clumsily climbs out of the broken side of the box. Scott’s gotten their bags from behind the dumpster where he’d stashed them by the time Nat is done giving him a lecture. To his surprise they actually get invited inside of her house after that, the woman’s annoyance morphing into a carefully guarded happiness about getting to see them after what happened.

“So are you two gonna tell me where you’ve been hiding for the last couple months?” She asks, pouring them each a warm cup of tea as they emerge from her guest bedroom dressed in more comfortable clothes.

“Nope.” Scott says, accepting the cup with a grateful smile before taking a seat on the leather couch.

“Are you two at least safe there?” She has to ask, having been worried for their safety after Secretary Ross’s comments the last few months about bringing them in dead or alive.

“Very, our two-bedroom two-bathroom house with a small garden and waterfall is very safe where it’s located.” Steve adds, taking his own cup before sitting down next to Scott.

“Oh my god, you’ve two turned domestic that quick?” Nat laughs, unable to sip her tea from the force of it.

“Thanks to him.” Steve says, reaching over to intertwine their hands, the man’s two rings showing off in the low light of the room.

Neither of them notices the woman quickly wipe her eye and let out a small sniffle at seeing the gold band around Scott’s ring finger. She masks it rather quickly, like it had never happened as she sits down in a soft looking arm chair. They get lost catching her up on what had happened over the past few months without giving away where they were. She gives Scott a glare at the building falling on his part, but they all end up smiling and laughing as the daylight fades outside.

“I know a few places we can do tomorrow that don’t have cameras or smart police. You two sleep in as much as you want though. No funny business that I can hear or I’ll break them off.” She threatens, setting her cup in the sink before retiring to her room.

The best isn’t nearly as nice as their one in Wakanda or even the Stark tower, but it’s still easy to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Steve immediately hogging the very soft blanket Nat had thrown across the chair in the bedroom Scott’s got all the warmth of the man to keep the cold at bay though, snoring softly in moments. It’s early that morning that something wakes him up, cracking open his eyes to realize that it’s Steve kissing him on the forehead and tucking him back into bed. The man smiles sheepishly at being found out.

“Sorry, I was gonna let you sleep longer.” Steve whispers, sitting on the head of the bed to rub his blanket covered shoulder.

“It’s ok, is Nat up?” He asks, making no move to well move from the warm spot in the bed.

“No idea, I just got up. You sure you wanna get up?” He asks, noticing how ingrained the man was in bed.

“I don’t know, I do I really do.” He mumbles, pressing his face into the thin material of Steve’s boxer covered thigh.

Steve chuckles, as continues running his hand up and down the man’s shoulder until his eyes are slipping back closed. After covering the younger man with the rest of the blankets strewn across the bed and slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a soft shirt, he quietly slips out of the room leaving the door slightly ajar. Sneaking through the hallway, he lets his footfalls get a little louder when he enters the kitchen and sees Natasha making coffee, eggs, and bacon.

“Gotta say Cap, I’m not sure how to take you sleeping in till nearly 8 o clock.” Natasha exclaims very overdramatically with a hand on her chest.

“It’s all his fault, corrupting both Steve Rogers and Captain America.” Steve jokes, smiling as he accepts a cup of coffee from the woman.

“You’ve smiled and laughed more in one night than the entire time you were in the Avengers before he showed up. I think it’s a good corruption.” The woman says, keeping one eye on the sizzling bacon while she wrote down a list of groceries on a piece of paper since she was as of now entertaining two super soldiers and their appetites.

“I think so too. So where are you taking us?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder as Scott wanders out of the bedroom in a pair of the older man’s sweat pants and a tank top of his own.

“The market, get some food and walk around.” She explains, passing a plate full of food to each of them.

They eat their food quickly and end up bundled in several layers when navigating the indoor food market. Natasha laughs at them and says that now she can narrow down where they’ve been hiding by the fact that they don’t like the cold climate right now. The two super soldiers end up being laden with bags of food by the time they return back to her house. After they help shove it all in the fridge and pantry Scott takes full advantage of his personal heater for the next hour. Snuggled up to the man in their soft pajama pants and shirts while Natasha plays random Christmas movies on the television.

“You know you two are gonna have to go back to wherever you came from in two days. I get wasted for Christmas and you goodie two shoes will not ruin that.” She says, getting Steve to glance up from the book he’d brought with him and Scott to turn his head from where it’s cushioned on his partner’s thigh.

“We could always have a drinking contest, Russian spy against super soldier.” Scott offers, smirking at the woman seems to consider the offer.

“I’ll supervise, you two are going to need to clean out a liquor store though.” Steve interjects going back to his book with a small smile.

That’s exactly what the two go and do that evening while not many people are around town. It takes each of them three trips with arms full of brown bags until they’ve brought their whole purchase inside. Steve gives the over thirty bottles a once over, noting the high proof levels of each with a shake of his head. He’s definitely going to be dealing with a drunk Nat in a few days. He just hopes the serum holds so that he doesn’t have to deal with a drunk Scott. There is that slight variation in the serum they gave Scott though, it could have different effects on his alcohol consumption.

“How about this,” Nat says two days later on the afternoon of Christmas, “If I can out drink him, you have to tell me where you two are hiding out.”

Scott’s relaxing on the couch eating pretzels from a bowl and watching a hallmark movie in his new pair of flannel pants Nat had gotten him for Christmas. Glancing over with a smirk at the woman’s challenge, nodding his head as Steve sighs. The older man has a few sports drinks, glasses of water, and migraine medication just in case this goes sideways. Well, when this goes sideways.

“Deal Romanov.” Scott says, getting up to saunter over to the kitchen bar where Nat was already busy pouring out a line of shots for them both.

Much to Steve’s surprise they’re both still standing after working their way though a third of the bottles. What has his attention the most is that Scott’s actually swaying a little on his feet as he downs what must be shot twenty-seven. Nat is smirking like she’s about to win, but also looks a few shots away from giving in herself. They manages to make it through three more bottles before one of them goes down like a bag of bricks to the wooden floor of the kitchen. He can’t help but laugh as Scott groans and basically crawls to the bathroom to start throwing up the alcohol in his system. Nat smirks victoriously and down the rest of her shot before almost falling over herself. 

“Oh ladies, to bed with the both of you.” Steve mumbles, grabbing Nat to carry to her bedroom.

As soon as he gets her to drink a few glasses of water and fall asleep in bed, he leaves a sports drink and some pills on her nightstand before closing the door behind him as he leaves. Scott’s hunched over the sink when he gets to the guest bedroom. Washing the taste of alcohol and bile from his mouth. Shaking his head, Steve flushes the mess in the toilet before hauling his man to their bed. Replicating his actions with Nat, the man is hydrated and fast asleep in no time. 

Going back out into the living room, he makes short work of throwing the plethora of empty bottles and about half of the full ones still left into the dumpster outside. Wiping up the counter and putting the glass cups and shot glasses into the sink, he makes sure the door is locked and the lights off before taking the couch. As much as he would like to sleep with Scott, he really didn’t want to wake up to drunk breath. To be fair he supervised, he should have really left Scott on this couch and taken the bed for himself.

Scott swears that he uses half of the tube of toothpaste Nat had lent them brushing the rancid taste of vomit and alcohol from his mouth that next morning. He’s just thankful that the serum seemed to have prevented the hangover he should have, or the alcohol poisoning. Scarfing down the bacon as it cooks in the pan, he glances up every now and then to make sure Steve is still asleep on the couch. If it wasn’t for the threat of that headache, he would have carried him to the bed for being such a good sport last night and taking care of them.

“Oh god is that bacon?” Nat asks, stumbling out in just a pair of short shorts and her form fitting tank top.

“Mine.” Scott says, squinting his eyes at the assassin.

“I already kicked your ass at drinking, do you really wanna have the same happen over breakfast?” Nat threatens.

Steve by now has looked up from the couch at the stand off over bacon and promptly decides to cover his face with the pillow he’d taken off their bed. At least if they start tearing apart the house, the pillow will protect him. In the end Scott ends up with a small grease burn on his arm as they each enjoy a sizable stack of crispy bacon with little damage to the kitchen. 

“So, you lost. That means you have to tell me where you two are hiding.” She points out, chewing on another piece as Steve finally gets up to take a seat between them on one of the kitchen stools.

“Wakanda.” Scott says, growling under his breath as Scott swipes some of his bacon.

“Oh, that actually makes a lot of sense now that I consider it. At least I know you two goof balls are safe there.” She says, offering to share her plate with Steve because of how close Scott looks to breaking his fiancé’s fingers.

“Are you safe Nat?” The older man asks, sliding off his seat to start cooking some eggs for all three of them.

“Yeah, I got ten more like these around,” She says, gesturing to the house around her, “I’ll be ok, but you two should probably move out in a few days at most. I’m supposed to report in Monday.” 

Nodding, they end up spending the rest of the day chatting on the couch lazily. Scott and Natasha work themselves through the bottles that are left, making Steve drink along with them. They’re all on the better end of tipsy by the time darkness falls on the house and the latest Hallmark movie comes to its credits. Steve’s the one that ends up curled into his partner’s left side heavily snoring, Scott combing his fingers through the man’s outgrown hair as he splits the last bottle with Natasha who has moved beside him on the couch to easily pass it back and forth.

“So, who tied down who?” Nat asks, reaching over to poke the ring on his finger from where she’s sitting on his right side.

“Steve proposed the day before we came here. It’s the band his mother gave to him for his lucky dame.” Scott explains, getting an involuntary snort and then laughter from Natasha.

“Oh my god, you’re serious. That’s so 1940s of him. What’s the blue one then?” She asks, turning over his hand to look at the sturdy vibranium ring.

“Promise ring, gave it to me three weeks back. I was having a moment arguing about whether he was really happy or not with being as domestic as we are. He proposed to assure me that he was happy. Turns out he really likes our little peaceful life, says he can just be Steve now, not just Captain America. He takes runs every morning while I garden, then bugs me to make spaghetti for dinner every time he sees a tomato turn red.” He almost gets lost in musing about his life if it wasn’t for Nat snickering beside him with a few tears in her eyes.

“I’m really happy for you two, I know I’ve said it but you two really deserve this.” She says, patting his forearm after setting the now empty bottle aside. 

“You ok?” He asks, shushing Steve as the man grumbles under his breath for a moment.

“It’s been a hard few months and honestly I was starting to think that you two might be in a prison somewhere or six feet under in an unmarked grave. Do me a favor and respond to my texts from now on, it’s a secure connection.” She asks, leaning against his shoulder.

“We will, I promise.” He says softly, lifting up his arm so that she could cuddle into his other side. 

Scott feels safe in that moment as the two fall asleep under his arms. One by one the lights in the living room click off on timers and he’s left in just the light of the street lamps. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before leaning his head back against the couch cushions and slipping off into the darkness. 

_It’s not sand in his teeth this time. He’s walking along a forest path with a slight breeze ghosting over his cheeks. There’s a tension in the air though, not normally there when he goes for walks like this. Looking down at his hands he realizes that he’s in his armor, his pistol clenched tightly in one of them. An overwhelming sense of fear is filling his head right now, his stomach sinking as he hears the unmistakable sound of Steve yelling in exertion._

_Sprinting forward an invisible barrier traps him in place and all he can do is watch as it happens. Steve’s on his hands and knees looking directly at him. A large shadow of some create above him with it’s hand up in the air in a glinting glove. Natasha is to his left, staring at the same scene his is, but also towards him out of the corner of her eye. In a moment Steve is reaching out for him with a look of pure terror and pain in his face, then it happens._

_Glancing back down at his hands, he sees his hand starts to melt into dust. There’s no pain, just a numbness as his whole body starts to crumble before his eyes. Natasha’s sprinting toward him now, her hand reaching out to grab ahold of him. He can feel the dust getting closer to his throat now, climbing up it like a bad coughing fit on it’s way. His vision blackens as he starts to collapse backwards, the vivid screams of the Steve and Natasha filling his ears before the light fades entirely._

By some miracle he manages to throw himself off the couch in the middle of that nightmare. His fist goes through the solid oak coffee table as he scrambled to grab something to ground himself. Throat raw from the silent screaming, he curls in on himself and breathes in ragged gasps on the soft carpeting of the rug. Sweat is running down his forehead in rivets as the edges of his vision threaten to shove him back into unconsciousness for how badly he’s hyperventilating. He just manages to calm himself down enough to grab a blanket and drag himself to the bathroom to avoid waking his thankfully still sleeping friends. 

After splashing his face with cold water over and over, he curls a towel around his now sopping head and somehow thinks it’s a good idea to sleep in the bathtub tonight. Curling up in the blanket, he presses his toweled forehead to the edge of the smooth fiberglass and closes his eyes. The solid walls around him bring some comfort as the dull sound of the fan rattling in the ceiling calms his firing nerves. Closing his eyes, he pushes a tense breath out of his chest before lulling off.

“Hey, did you and Scott get drunk again last night?” Steve asks, from the doorway of the bathroom towards Natasha’s room.

They’d woken up later that morning to find the person they’d both fallen asleep against gone. Scratching his head, Steve had gone to the spare bedroom first and found that empty to his increased confusion. Thinking that the man had maybe gone for a walk or something, he goes to relieve himself in the bathroom and finds the curled-up mass of his fiancé in the bathtub snoring.

“No, why? Oh.” Natasha says, walking to stand in the doorway with the older man to see what he’s seeing.

“Yeah, what do I do?” Steve asks, completely at a loss considering he’s never had a friend or lover choose to sleep in a bathtub over the perfectly comfy couch or the two very open beds.

“At least move him into the bed.” Nat says, walking forward to pull the towel off his head and throw it over the curtain rod.

Scott doesn’t even twitch or make a sound as Steve lifts him into his arms and walks him toward the bedroom. The man’s hand comes up and rest on his arm sleepily as he sets him down on the mattress. Those dull gray eyes cracking open lazily as the younger man smiles up at the older. 

“You ok?” Steve has to ask, using the blanket wrapped around the man to dab his still damp hair.

“Yeah, why you asking?” Scott asks, confusion evident in his voice as he wakes up further.

“Well you freely chose to sleep in a bathtub.” The older man says, watching the recognition setting in the man’s face and eyes.

“Oh, I had a nightmare. I guess that’s where I felt safe?” The younger man says, remembering parts of the dream but not much of his decision to sleep in a bathtub.

He feels it though, the dull ache in his back, shoulders, and hips for his choice of sleeping surface. Groaning, he buries his face into the man’s thigh as he catches on and start to rub the younger man’s tense shoulders. They were planning on going back to Wakanda this morning, but wanted to give the man a chance to sleep a little and discuss said nightmare before bidding farewell to Nat. With a few practiced motions of his fingers, he manages to lull the man into a pliant slumber. Continuing his ministrations, he waits until the man is snoring heavily before quietly leaving the room. 

“So, he had a nightmare.” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits on the bar stool in front of where Natasha is cooking up some pancakes.

“And then thought the tub was a safe place, I overheard walking by your room. It’s probably just a simple thing, nothing to stress about. Maybe he shouldn’t drink.” Natasha offers, mixing the batter.

“Maybe, you think he did it not to wake us up?” He asks, rubbing his arm as he glanced to the hallway.

“Oh most definitely, like I said don’t stress yourself with something that can’t be fixed until he wakes up.” The woman pushes, turning on the stove.

“I know, it’s just neither of us have had one for a while now. I thought we might be done with all that.” Steve admits, flinching as Natasha smacks his wrist with her metal spatula and he realizes that he was starting to rub hard enough that he was almost drawing blood from his forearm.

“Stop overthinking it and focus on choosing toppings for your pancakes.” She pushes, pointing to half a dozen Tupperware containers full of fruits and a few sweets.

Scott’s rubbing his eyes and shuffling out to the kitchen a few hours later with a little stiffness still present in his body. Natasha wordlessly passes him a plate of pancakes she had kept in the microwave to keep warm along with the syrup and a fork. He’s looks worse than the hangover he had yesterday morning, bad enough that Nat makes quick work of drawing the shades of the kitchen window and dimming the lights to give him some relief as soon as she notices how much he’s squinting while trying to eat his breakfast.

“Feel better?” Steve asks, rubbing the man’s back over the soft shirt that he’d stolen from the older man’s bag.

“Sort of, neck still hurts. Sorry if I worried you guys.” Scott says, making a face at the pancakes as he tries to chew through the nausea making his head and stomach swim uncomfortably.

He’d started remembering parts of the dream after waking up about an hour ago. Spending another hour piecing it together and subsequently getting nervous and shaky all over again as he thought about it. Somehow it was more persistent than his other nightmares he’d had before. Like it was somehow linked to his future in some way and that terrified the life out of him. He wasn’t ready to lose another person he cared about. It was that sickening feeling that drove him to set down the fork and squeeze his eyes shut to quell the cold sweat running down his face.

“You’re still kind of worrying us, what’s going on Scott?” Natasha asks, taking away the plate to replace it with a small trash can as she watches the color drain from the super soldier’s face.

“Nightmare’s lingering. It was so real, I think it was me dying or something while something attacked Steve and you.” He grinds out, face scrunching up even more as something liquid pushes at the back of his throat, his abdomen tight as he clenches his hands around the garbage can.

“It’s alright, that didn’t happen. We’re here, we’re all safe.” Steve tries, recoiling a little as the man starting vomiting into the can.

“I know, it feels like it gonna happen.” Scott croaks, spitting into the can before throwing up again.

“It’s not, if we’re there you’re not gonna get hurt. I promise.” Natasha says, and Steve is nodding in affirmation.

The pure stubbornness in their tones makes his stomach settle and mind go quiet for the moment. Steve, sensing the man’s mind has finally calmed down, escorts him to the bathroom so that he can brush the bile taste from his mouth. Natasha grabs the can from them to empty the bag in the dumpster and is putting a new one in it as the pair walks back out of the bathroom. Scott nods in thanks as a glass of ice water is presses into his hand as he sits on the couch with a boneless sigh.

“Better?” Natasha asks, gently rubbing his slightly trembling knee as Steve moves to sit down next to him.

“Yeah, thank you.” Scott mumbles in between sips of the refreshingly cold water. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around the younger man’s shoulders to pull him back against his chest. 

“Maybe you two could stay another night, if you want I mean.” Natasha says, sitting down beside the pair, startling a little as Steve wraps on his arms around her shoulders too.

Considering all Scott gives in response is a mutter sound of content as his eyes slide shut, Steve ends up nodding for the both of them. They’d definitely have to move out tomorrow to not interfere with Nat’s schedule and/or risk them being recognized the longer they stay. But he really can’t bring himself to move the man right now. The fast flight of the Wakandan planes would surely bring back the nausea and give the man the headache of a lifetime from how little and how he ended up sleeping last night. His wishes get thrown to the curb the moment the woman’s cell phone goes off and her face falls as she looks at who sent the message.

“I’ll go pack our stuff.” Steve says, gently lying the younger man up against the arm of the couch.

Scott stirs as the older man set their bags down by the door. His chest has a dull ache from the anxiety attacks he’s been almost having remembering the nightmares. Stomach and head not far behind in the realm of aching and potentially rolling in a sickening way. A few minutes later the sound of a cloaked ship landing just to the side of the house catches his attention. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lets the woman guide him into said ship as Steve carries their bags behind them. 

“Don’t be strangers.” Nat says, hugging the older man tight before mirroring those actions for the younger.

“We won’t, I’m sure Scott will send you plenty of pictures of his garden once we get back.” Steve assures, leaning down to buckle his partner into the seat.

“Oh, picture of his garden huh. Is it well landscaped?” Nat teases, getting a snicker from Scott.

“Thanks for having us Nat.” The younger says, smiling up at the woman as she backs down the ramp.

“Anytime boys.” She says, giving them a mock salute before disappearing as the ramp shuts and they take off.

They land on the edge of their home a little after dawn. Scott’s up by then, the aches in his body a little less pronounced as he grabs their bags and clumsily shoves their front door open. Steve’s a little behind him, the jet lag wearing on him a little more than normal. Shoving down the uneasiness still crawling under his skin, Scott runs them a warm shower and makes short work of stripping them both down as soon as he locks the front door.

“Just relax handsome.” Scott whispers, gently washing the last few days off the man as he goes plaint in his hands.

“You feel, better?” Steve slurs, nuzzling close to the man as he just runs his hands up and down his back.

“I do, will after some sleep too.” The younger man replies, kissing the top of the man’s head. 

He has yet to use it to tease the man about it, but there is the fact that he’s actually two inches taller than the older super soldier. It’s normally doesn’t make much of a difference, but standing on the tiled shower floor in this intimate of a setting gets him to notice it. He doesn’t get long to muse though, Steve’s starting to lean a little too much into his hold. If push comes to shove he could probably dry, clothe, and get them back into bed, but he really doesn’t want to haul the man’s weight around like that right now.

“C’mon hon, let’s get to bed.” Scott says, turning off the water as Steve pretty much blindly follows his lead.

They manages to dry themselves off and put on boxers before retreating to the bedroom. Scott chuckles as Steve basically face plants himself into the bed and starts snoring. Smiling with a fondness he shouldn’t have for such a goofy man, he gently rolls him into the bed and under the blankets. Slipping off his rings, he sets them on the nightstand before crawling in next to him. Humming in content as the older man shuffles into his chest and lets out a content sigh.

He thankfully doesn’t dream that night, in fact he ends up sleeping so deeply in their exquisite bed that he doesn’t know where he is when he wakes up. His sleep drunk mind alternating between trying to focus his eyes to read the clock and his ears trying to figure out what animal is making such a loud chirping noise outside their slightly open window. His body also registers that there’s a warm and pliant mass curled into his side as well, hand twitching on the arm that laid across his bare stomach. Steve’s outgrown hair is down in his eyes, his head resting on his partner’s shoulder. Brushing that hair from his eyes, he lets that arm slink under their blankets to rub the man’s pleasantly warm back.

“Ugh, five more minutes.” Steve mumbles, smushing his face into his younger partner’s shoulder.

“Ok.” Scott says quietly, kissing the top of the man’s head.

“Ten more minutes?” The older tries, curling his fingers into his partner’s toned hip.

“I don’t think so hon, nice try though.” The younger yawns fingers running up the man’s bare back, along the nape of his neck, and finally into the ends of his soft hair on the back of his head.

Steve hums at the pleasant feeling that runs down his spine with the man gently massaging the back of his head and neck. Satisfied that the older man is content for the time being, Scott reaches over and grabs his data pad off the nightstand to catch up on what they missed in Wakanda during their vacation. He’s halfway through today’s news briefing, the one that the upper echelons of the country get access to, when Steve reluctantly pulls himself out of bed and stumbles into the bathroom.

Giving himself a few more minutes in the blissful comfort of the linen masterpiece, he sets the data pad back on the nightstand before kicking his blankets off. Slipping on his rings, he stretches languidly with a slight squeak. Relaxing his arms back down from his half sun salutation is when he notices Steve leaning in the doorway of the bathroom admiring the sight before him. Scott’s toned body clad in only a pair of tight black boxers as the dawn light highlights those perfections in that delicate balance of light and shadows. 

“You are a beautiful man, you know that?” Steve says, smiling as he continues to catalogue the image in his mind for as long as he can.

“Flatterer, c’mere.” Scott says, extending his arms out in an invitation.

“Put some clothes on, we should take a walk.” The older man says, bypassing him to dig in his dresser.

“Fine.” The younger says, pouting slightly as he pulls on a pair of track pants, socks, and an athletic shirt. 

The captain had pushed him into buying a few pairs of the athletic ware from a merchant that had recently emigrated from Nigeria to Wakanda. Apparently he’d given the man enough compliments about how they complimented his figure that he’d in turn been pressed to try a pair on. Scott had lost track of how long they’d spent in bed following that, Steve pouring compliments over how hot and sexy he looked in those clothes. They’d bought seven pairs for him that next day. Now there was less fever when they put them on and more loving gazes shared. For a moment he felt old, but the next he just felt whole.

“C’mon, stop that overthinking of yours and let’s go.” Steve says, begging him like an eager kid while pulling him toward where their shoes were at the front door.

After putting on their shoes and making it out the door, Scott wastes little time in intertwining their hands as they walk towards the end of their properties boundary. He has to poke the older man in the side as a giddy smile appears on his face at see at least half a dozen red tomatoes. They walk for a while, smiling as a small herd of goats trots past them. They only get a moment to react when the shepherd trails behind them with a walking stick.

“Bucky?” Steve says, smiling warmly as the man turns and regards them with a slight smile.

“Hey Steve, Scott.” The soldier greets, giving a one-armed hug to each other them as he whistles for his flock to stay in place.

“You look good man.” Scott comments, knowing that for now he treaded a fine line with Bucky.

The winter soldier was basically Steve’s brother and closest friend. He needed to respect that the two had a much deeper relationship in some aspects of their lives. That for now he was an outsider that Bucky had probably given a good amount of thought to ending if he ever hurt Steve. It was on him now to make a good impression and show that he really loved and would support the captain.

“I feel better, Shuri really knows her stuff. Basically managed to take everything Hydra put in my head out in a matter of months.” The man explains, gesturing for the pair to follow him as he started to walk his goats back towards his own home.

“That’s great Bucky.” Steve says, glancing to the man’s content face as the finally approach the small farm. 

Scott immediately busies himself with a few baby goats that start butting their heads against his shins. Sitting down on the soft grass, he pets their soft heads while Steve and Bucky smile and then walk off a little ways to talk. Deep down there’s a tiny ache of being left out, but he also understands that the two have a different kind of bond forged through childhood battles and the was with Hydra. He’s just glad that Steve still has someone that he can relate to for those times in his life. That he wasn’t the only hundred-year-old really thirty some year old in this century.

“What’s your name huh, you got a name yet?” He asks the small white goat with blue eyes who apparently has a personal vendetta against his right thigh at the moment.

“Ba.” The tiny goat bas, tilting it’s head before trying to ram him again.

“I should call you Steve the Goat, because you’re hard headed and likes to hit everything.” He whispers, smirking as the pair wanders back over.

“Haven’t named that one yet. Well I tried, but the rest of the village didn’t approve of what I wanted to call him. He’s the runt of the litter, and very bullyish.” Bucky chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as said goat runs over to smack Steve in the shin.

“He’s hard headed and likes to hit everything, c’mere Steve the Goat.” Scott coos, the small animal trotting back toward Scott with happy bas rolling off his small tongue.

“Oh I like him.” Bucky laughs, a grin that must hurt those underused muscles spreading across his face.

“You two are going to be the death of me.” Steve gripes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stares down the little goat.

“C’mon look at him, he’s adorable like you.” Scott says, petting the little animal as it makes content sounds at the attention.

“I regret asking for this walk.” The older man says, relenting nevertheless as he strides forward to stand in front of his partner, leaning down to pet the goat.

Bucky gives Scott a nod over the older man’s shoulder before walking off to get some hay for the herd. That small bit of tension lessens somewhat, he’s got a win with the man now. All it took was his stubborn partner and a stubborn goat. They only stay a few minutes longer before heading in the direction that leads them back home. Hand in hand Scott teases him a few more times before relenting. The older man squints at him and continues walking into the house when he stops at his garden. Grabbing a spare basket, he picks the tomatoes and some garlic bulbs before heading inside with him.

“Can I make it up to you?” Scott asks, holding up the basket with a smirk as he sets it on the kitchen counter.

“I suppose.” Steve says, unable to hide his desire to have that one meal made the best he’s tasted it since his mother.

“Love you.” The younger man whispers, kissing him sweetly on the cheek as he wraps his arms around the man’s waist so that they’re chest to chest.

“Love you more.” The older replies, swaying them back and forth to an imagined rhythm.

Scott can only smile at the intimate gesture, leaning his cheek down on the man’s shoulder, his nose just barely pressing against the man’s neck as he sighed in content. It had taken him the better part of the last three months to get Steve to actually even sway like this with him close. He realized that dancing was one of the man’s top three most painful memories, but he wanted to change that. His heart was in his throat when he’d asked the man to accompany him to a dancing class Ayo was putting on before the annual royal celebration. To his surprise, Steve had agreed and they’d stepped on each other’s feet three of the five days’ worth of lessons before finally getting it down. According to Shuri, they’d made the guard very proud when they danced at the celebration with the other couples.

“We should do this more often.” Steve mumbles, pressing his cheek to his forehead as they gently stepped and swayed to the more open living room.

“We really should.” Scott replies, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s neck.

“Are you, are you taller than me?” The older man asks after a few moments, realizing that Scott’s bending down a little to his level.

“Just a few inches love.” The younger man says, kissing his neck again this time with more passionate intent.

“At least I have a few inches on you where it counts.” Steve snickers and Scott has to pull back because damn he kind of feels bad about corrupting America’s golden boy this much.

“You’re bad,” Scott says, yelping as the man bends down to hoist him up by his thighs, “Very bad.”

He’s still snickering a little as Steve carries him, fully expecting to get thrown on the bed anytime now as he kisses the man’s cheek and wraps his legs around that sturdy waist. Instead his back gets shoved against one of the walls in the hallway short of that room. Leaning his head back, he sees that possessiveness in the man’s baby blue eyes. Those strong hands pulling down his track pants and boxers as he feels the older man shove down his as well. Suddenly Steve’s shoving two fingers in his mouth.

“Suck.” Steve growls, and damn he wants to see even more of this Steve.

He get’s prepped with his own saliva and screwed hard enough into the wall that he swears there are probably cracks or at least dents there. Steve does the same to him during round two in the shower, the tile rubbing against his back as the older man chases his own release. Scott must look dazed or worse, because Steve lies him in bed like he’s afraid he broke him. A cup of water gets presses into his hand and he drinks it slowly while waiting for his brain to come back online.

“We should do that more often too.” Scott slurs, setting down the empty cup to flop onto his stomach on the bed.

“I didn’t, hurt you?” Steve has to ask, rubbing his fingers over the man’s shoulders and down his back.

“No, like I always say it’s a nice sore. Come lie down?” Scott says, patting the empty spot on the bed.

Steve barely hesitates before lowering himself down to the mattress to be next to his partner. How he ever got so lucky was beyond him, smiling as he gently runs his fingers through the man’s damp hair. His own was dropping into his eyes too much lately, and the stubble on his face was now at least an inch or longer. As much as Scott likes it, the younger man still kept his own hair short and in control along with his beard. His was just getting annoying at this point. 

So as soon as he’s sure the man is peacefully asleep, he covers him with one of the thinner blankets before heading into the bathroom. Thanking his lucky stars that Bucky had taught him how to cut his own hair when he was younger so that he could save money on a barber. His hair gets cut back into it’s usually couple inch length with the swept over look. His beard comes off completely though, leaving his face smooth as he works to sweep the hair in the sink into the garbage can.

Smiling as he finds the other man still fast asleep, he moves out of the bedroom and grabs himself a glass of water before heading out to the garage. The lights come on as he enters, setting the glass of water on a shelf before turning to his latest project. It had been easy to get his bike from SHIELD working again, but his one from his first days and months as a super soldier in Germany was another story entirely. Maybe he should have left it in the museum he ‘borrowed’ it from.

Turning on the old computer that Shuri had given him, well it was old as in last years model, he boots up the scanning program. The woman had been very nice in responding to his emails about how to fix it considering most of the parts would be long gone by now. Even sending him a three-dimensional printers to remake the parts even in the same color as the old ones. With this knowledge in mind, he had been able to start rebuilding the machine and making a few augmentations to better it. Maybe those years in Stark tower had given him something other than a headache.

Rolling up his sleeves, he turns the printer back on to finish printing the last part he’d been working on. Grabbing for his glasses, he’s finally able to not squint as he looks at the small font of the old owner’s manual. He gets lost in his work on the engine, his mind focusing on the remaking the missing part in the computer program when the garage door opens quietly. Even in his concentration, he doesn’t flinch when a warm hand lands on his shoulder and a glass of cool juice finds it way into his sweaty hand.

“Dinner will be ready in like half an hour.” Scott says, kissing the man on the cheek before heading back into the main house.

Smiling at the affection, he takes a sip of the juice made from the natural citrus fruits that grew by the waterfall. Setting the glass off to the side, he finishes punching in the last dimensions of the part from the owner’s manual before selecting the material and color. Pressing send, he listens as the printer comes to life and the suspended arm starts to print the base layers of the part. Grabbing the grease soap, he rubs his palms and fingers together to clean off the grime before wiping the combination on a shop towel to throw into the garbage. Satisfied that the printer and computer will shut down once they’re done, he grabs his juice and turns off the lights as he heads back into the house. 

“Still can’t believe Captain America stole his own bike from a museum.” Scott muses, glancing up from where he’s checking the garlic bread in the oven.

“Borrowed.” Steve corrects, internally melting at the smells hanging around the house right now.

“Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that.” The younger says, smirking at the man before turning his attention to the simmering sauce.

“Maybe we should invite Nat here sometime, get her out of those dingy safehouses.” The older replies, walking up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist and lie his chin on his partner’s shoulder.

“You just want me to cook more since she’d be a guest.” He points out, leaning back into the man’s chest.

“Well that would be a plus, but I was thinking that she could have some of this peace too.” The other points out, separating from the man to grab the necessary items to set the table.

Scott nods, watching the man as he sets their plates on the table and carefully aligns their forks. Making a few trips back and forth, the jug of water and one of juice gets set alongside a small salad and some dressing. After all that is set, the man comes around his fiancé again and grabs the pot of drained noodles. Turning around and turning off the oven, Scott grabs the pan with some oven mitts and places it on the counter. Transferring the bread to a smaller plate as Steve grabs the sauce. 

“You know damn well that she’d probably throw up with how domestic this is.” Scott says, sitting down in his chair.

Nodding, Steve sits down in his chair with a small smile gracing his lips. Glancing at the younger man, his eyes trail down to his ring clad hand whose fingers are tapping idly against the solid wood of their dining table. Reaching over, he gently intertwines their fingers before dipping his head. Mumbling a prayer of grace under his breath, he looks up as he says amen. The small whisper of the word from his fiancé not escaping his keen hearing as they start to dig into the meal.

“You look better shaved and clean.” Scott says a few minutes into them eating, smiling as he chews on a piece of garlic bread.

“I couldn’t take it anymore, I don’t know how you deal with it being that itchy.” Steve chuckles, reaching for his second helping already.

“Beard lotion Steve, and I keep it washed and trimmed. You were beginning to look like a hobo.” The man comments, laughing as Steve squints menacingly at him.

“Always the charmer.” The other man says, relaxing his face again as he pours the sauce over his pile of noodles.

They rib each other throughout dinner, and Scott knows it wouldn’t be better any other way. After putting away the leftovers and cleaning up the dishes, pots, and pans Steve drags him to the center of the living room. Switching on his old record player, Steve takes him in his arms and they sway together. After a time, Scott lies his hand on the other man’s chest just over his heart and smiles as the other brings a hand up to cover it. Lifting his head, Scott leans in and kisses his fiancé deeply. Not in a way that would lead them to the bedroom, but in a way that communicated all of the love he felt inside himself for the man standing in front of him.

Falling into that usual pattern of their domestic life, Scott really only senses a change in Steve’s demeanor as the calendar dates tick over to July. He’d of course been preparing for the special occasion for a few weeks now. The man’s really only thirty-four, but in reality it was his centurion birthday. T’Challa had even sent over some special robes and gifts befitting an elder warrior of that age in Wakandan tradition. 

Steve had however been taking even longer runs, sometimes several times a day. And when the man did return it was to his garage to work on his bike. It was taking hours to careful convincing to get the man out of his slump and into bed at night. Scott not really sleeping for fear the man would get out of bed once his breathing evened out. They’re dinners were filled with short conversations, and the man’s prayer had gotten quieter if existing at all. It’s on the morning of the man’s birthday that he pulls out all his stops and uses all his energy to try and get the man back smiling.

“Good morning Steve.” Scott says, smiling up from his position over the stove as Steve walks out from their room, eyes going a little wide at being caught on his way out the door for his run.

“Hi, uh morning.” Steve stutters obviously conflicted about whether to keep going for his shoes or towards the smells coming from the kitchen.

“Happy birthday handsome.” Scott says, walking out from around the kitchen island with a steaming cinnamon roll on a plate.

“Oh, that’s today huh?” The older man says, sounding a little beaten down as he does his best to smile at the gesture.

“Yeah, happy thirty fourth.” The younger says, internally willing his smile to take some of the pain out of the other man’s eyes.

“I’m older than that.” He says softly, almost broken.

“C’mon, what’s wrong. What’s been wrong in that head of yours for the last week?” Scott finally asks, setting down the pastry to set his hands on the man’s forearms.

The man takes a deep breath before his lip starts to quiver and tears well up in those baby blue eyes. Fluidly, Steve crumples against his chest and starts sobbing. Scott’s quick to catch him under the armpits, arms wrapping around his chest as he just holds the man as he breaks down. Bringing one hand up to cup the back of the man’s head, he uses the other to rub up and down his trembling back. That goes on for close to ten minutes before the sobs start to diminish slightly and the man gets his feet back under him.

“Every year I realize it all over again, that everyone I knew is gone. That I really am a man out of time.” Steve finally admits, still shaking a little as his fiancé leads him to sit down on the couch.

“Tell me about them?” Scott offers, holding the man’s hand tightly in his own.

The morning sunlight start to warm them on the couch as Steve tells him his life before the ice. All about his skinny stature, and how he never ran away from a fight with a bully. His brotherhood with Bucky and meeting the German scientist that changed him. Then to his days as a showgirl, which Scott laughed a little at. Last his time with Peggy and his commandos, the love and camaraderie they had shared until that dark day where he’d died.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love being here in this century with you now. But most of my life is back then right now.” He says, curling into his younger fiancé.

“I understand, this days about you though. So let’s celebrate you.” Scott pushes, climbing into the man’s lap with a grin as some happiness comes back into those sparkling blue eyes.

“Thank you for listening, it feels good to talk about them and keep those good memories alive. But you are right, it is technically my day.” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss his man softly.

“It is, what would you like to do?” The younger man asks, their lips only separating a fraction of an inch.

“You?” The older man says, his composed face dissolving into childlike giggles as Scott starts breathlessly laughing as well.

“How about we eat first, then you can have me all you want.” The younger offers, slipping off the man’s lap to go warm up their cinnamon rolls back up.

The tension that had existed that past week and heavily this morning has dissipated by the time they’re halfway through their meal. Scott’s actually starting to feel the fatigue set in from the handful of sleepless nights and the early morning today. Steve’s making his way though a third roll as he walks over to sit on the couch and curl up with one of the throw blankets. He resolves to just close his eyes for a moment but when he wakes up it seems like afternoon rather than morning. 

“Afternoon love.” Steve says from above him, those strong fingers running through his hair.

“I fell asleep.” Scott mumbles, slowly realizing that his head was cushioned on the man’s thigh as the television played in the background.

“It’s ok, you kept staying up to make sure that I would stay in the bed. So you deserved a little rest.” The older man says, smiling as the younger man nuzzles into his leg.

“You should uh, open your presents.” Scott remembers, pointing to the chair with a blanket covering something.

“In a minute, let’s just sit like this for a little bit.” The man says, pulling Scott up so that they could cuddle chest to chest along the couch.

Time blends together in moments like these and suddenly the clock by his bed reads a few months past. Cracking open his eyes, he yawns and rolls out of bed. Steve already off on his morning run, leaving the spot on the bed beside him cool save for the sunlight starting to wash over his bare body. Stretching in all his underwear clad glory, he struts to the bathroom to relieve himself before returning to get dressed in some workout attire.

They’d built a small building on the edge of their property to use as a gym since Steve had made the comment one day that his abs were starting to get soft with all the good eating and relaxation. That and there was a tension in the air and in the daily news reports that told them something bad wasn’t far off. If and when it happened, the Avengers would surely be called upon again. That meant the two super soldiers needed to be ready and fit for duty.

Pressing the key code for the door, he steps inside the temperature-controlled building. Turning on his music player, he cranks up the volume before walking to his locker. Humming under his breath to the song, he methodically wraps his hands in boxer’s tape before filling up his water bottle. Setting it on the floor as he walks up to the punching bag, he flexes his joints and muscles before starting to bounce on his feet. While Steve liked to plant himself and beat the inanimate bag into submission, he likes to stay agile. At least someone on Shuri’s team had designed a punching bag that could take their strength.

There’s sweat running down his forehead in rivet and some soaking a line down his chest and the spine of his shirt after the first hour straight of going at the bag with his hands and feet. He’s in tune with the beat of the music and hyper focused as the door opens and closes behind him. The music getting changed to their mix of songs before his parents were born and his own favorites is the first clue that Steve’s now joining him. Nothing like 40’s swing to throw him off his rhythm.

“Hey.” Steve says, patting his shoulder as he hold up the younger man’s water bottle.

“Hi.” Scott replies, taking the bottle to have several gulps as he also accepting a towel from the knowing man to wipe his sweat with.

“Sorry I was gone a little longer. Caught a truck to the city and talked with T’Challa. Apparently there’s been talk of some odd readings from Asgard. They’re going to start building up their defenses more starting this week. I told him that if the Avengers don’t contact us, we’ll defend Wakanda along with them.” Steve explains, starting to wrap his own hands and wrists.

“Course, it is home after all. Shuri had our armors delivered yesterday when you were working on your bike. They’re in the corner there.” Scott says, pointing to the two crates by the lockers.

“Good, wanna spar?” Steve asks, walking over to the padded training mat.

Nodding, he walks back to his locker first. Pulling on a leg guard over his artificial leg and thigh to make sure a wrong hit wouldn’t hurt where the metal and skin met. Adjusting his shorts over it, he walks back over to a staring Steve and pushes his shoulder in a tease. Steve shoves a helmet on his head for good measure and they both adjust the straps so they fit snug. 

“After you hon.” The older man teases, settling back onto his heels with an arch of his eyebrow.

Laughing, Scott doesn’t rise to the bait but does set himself on the balls of his feet. The circle around each other for the remainder of the next song before Steve lunges at him. The man wrapped fist connects with his shoulder, but he rolls to lessen the momentum and grabs the older man at the waist. They tumble down to the mat and fight for control over who ends up against the mat. Eventually Steve gets one of his arm behind his back and he winces at warning ache in his shoulder from the hold. Tapping the floor twice, the pressure immediately ceases.

“We need to work on your close hand to hand, you’re still slow to grapple.” Steve offers in a grunt as they got at it again.

“I usually shoot, you punch.” Scott grunts back, just managing to dislodge the arm coming up to wrap around his neck.

“You need to be prepared if it comes to this.” The older says, momentarily surprised as the younger flips them so that one of his legs is pinning his chest and the other one of his legs. 

Wincing as Scott’s metal leg presses into his shoulder, he arches his back and tries his best to dislodge him. They’re just about equal in weight, but he’s seen the scans from the Stark tower medical team. Scott has more muscle mass on him, and he’s been training to be more agile. There’s a little pride in his chest seeing the man come this far since he’d first seen him in that alley. But damn if he isn’t angry and desperate to win this grapple like always.

“Just give up old man.” His fiancé grunts sweat coating his brow as he tightens his hold.

“Fine.” He replies after a few more minutes, tapping his hand against the man’s shin as he lets go.

They just lie there for a moment to catch their respective breaths. The older man tapping his fingers on his metal shin along to the song playing over the speakers. His body is sore and he’s tired, too tired to go to usual ten rounds with the man this morning. The other man must understand his boneless body language because he just continues his tapping while his other hand comes up from under Scott’s outstretched legs to set on the man’s stomach.

“Are we getting old?” Scott asks eventually, flexing his hands and wrists under the tape.

“I’m a hundred years old, you don’t have an excuse.” The older man chuckles as the younger slaps him on the shoulder.

“I’m engaged to you, pretty sure that makes me age faster.” The younger shoots back, smiling as the older raises an eyebrow at him.

They get roused out of their mushy back and forth by a subdued ring of a cell phone coming from the lockers. Steve gets his feet under him first, opening the locker to fumble through the pockets of his gym bag for his phone. As soon as he realizes that it isn’t his smart phone, his anxiety dials up to ten as he searches for the emergency only flip phone. Finally fishing it out, his face pales at Tony’s name coming up on the screen before he opens it.

“Hello?” Steve says, lifting a hand to Scott’s hip as the younger comes up see what’s wrong.

Scott listens close to Bruce Banner frantically tell Steve that Tony and Peter had gone up into space with Dr. Strange and that Vision was probably in trouble. That the alien named Thanos was after the last few infinity stones that could very well kill off have their population with a snap of his fingers. It’s enough to get Scott over to the boxes in the corner to start unpacking their armors. Steve fumbles a call to T’Challa saying that they need to leave Wakanda now to get to Vision and Wanda. The king gives him a ship and his blessing to return when they’re done.

“Steve, before we do this I love you.” Scott says, catching the man’s arm as they start walking toward the landing ship with their helmets under their arms and weapons equipped.

“I love you too, we’ll get through this.” Steve assures as the ramp to the ship drops. 

The flight feels too short, but he still spends the couple hours anxiously checking the ammunition he know he doesn’t have to check in his weapons along with the seals of his helmet. Steve’s staring out of the front cockpit window with a deep look on his face. It’s only when they land at the train station that they both snap into their business modes and run towards the sounds of fighting in the dark building. Scott just manages to tackle one of the aliens as they’re going for Wanda who had been caught off guard. It doesn’t take them long, especially when Falcon arrives, to dispatch the enemies and get the pair onto the ship and flying toward Wakanda. Sending a call to the Avengers about their plan to remove the gem and destroy it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you two.” Wanda says after they’re underway, holding vision close.

“We’ve been around, lying low and enjoying the peace.” Scott says, curling his fingers into his armored bicep to avoid starting to anxiously toy with stuff again.

“Oh, sorry to break that then.” She says, seeing how wound up the two super soldiers look at the moment.

Nodding, Scott goes and sits down in one of the seats nearest the ramp. He hasn’t taken his helmet off, so he can let his emotions war over his face as much as he wants. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears and he never thought that he would ever hate coming back and fighting to save the world this much. He’s been in paradise for nearly two years and suddenly the possibility of going back to it feels like it’s slipping through his fingers like sand. His anxious thoughts war in his mind until they land at Shuri’s lab situated against the side of the mountain. 

He stands near the window as they talk, looking over the land that they call home. His stomach crawls into his throat as he watches the alien ships land outside their shielded land. Jumping on the transport with the other soldiers, he checks and double checks his weapons before they land. His nervousness changes into pure unaltered rage in a moment though with his temper flaring. How dare these alien bastards attack his home, his peace. They were going to burn in hell for it, he would make sure of it.

They make it to the battlefield in record time. M’Baku knocks they’re shoulders together with a happy smile on his face at finally getting to fight side by side. Scott knocks back and smiles beneath his helmet as he raises his rifle to his shoulder. They watch the interaction between the two aliens, T’Challa, and Steve from a distance. As they stomp back toward their assembles forces, the two warrior square their shoulders and ready for the upcoming battle. Watching Bucky smirk at Steve as the super soldier falls in line gives him a good feeling. They’re all warriors here, they won’t lose Vision or their home without a considerable fight.

“Wakanda forever.” Scott shouts along with the other warriors as they rush forward. 

Taking up a post by a sturdy boulder, he starts picking off the alien creatures with deadly precision. The fight start to turn out of their favor though, one alien getting close enough to knock his rifle from his hands. Whipping out his pistol from his thigh holster, he jams it into the creature’s jaw before pulling the trigger. Grabbing his rifle to attach to his back, he stands up and starts picking off the aliens with his pistol as they get close to some of the other warriors. When that gets knocked out of his hands and a nasty claw cuts into the meat of his left shoulder, he goes hand to hand.

“Your backside warrior.” M’Baku roars, throwing him one of their blades as he turns towards the man’s commanding voice.

“Thanks.” Scott calls back before shoving it into the neck of the next alien.

Grunting as one of the larger aliens homes in on his destructive capability, he has to quickly dart to the side to avoid being crushed like he was in the building. The vibranium material of his shoulder is gliding over his skin slickly with the drying blood that must be coating it. He’s a little slow to react though as the monster backhands him into the rock he was previously hiding behind. It’s hard enough that he can feel the seals of his helmet crack loose. 

“Get up Sentinel.” Ayo says, grabbing his disoriented form just as the monster slams his fist into the rock cracking it in two.

“I’m really starting to hate these guys.” He mutters, throwing his cracked helmet to the ground before picking up his discarded blade and charging at the looming alien.

“Get in line.” M’Baku shouts, running alongside him as they take down the alien together.

“Everyone on my location, Thanos is here.” Steve calls over the radio, and like that M’Baku is pushing him away from their insignificant battle toward the forest where the other super soldier is calling from.

His lungs are actually starting to hurt as he nears the tree line from how hard he’s sprinting. He can hear the shouts and grunts of battle as he nears the clearing where Wanda, Vision, and Steve are fighting an imposing looking alien. The man is like a put together and blue version of the Hulk and it’s starting to terrify him with how powerful he looks with the bronze gauntlet around his hand. He thoughts grind to a sickening halt when he watches his partner get through across the forest as the alien advances on a downed Vision. 

Scott wastes no time in filling that void, slamming himself into the alien’s midsection to take them both down to the dirt ground. He manages to get a few good hits into the man’s chest and head before a gigantic hand closes around the side of his chest. Groaning at the feeling of his ribs grinding on one another, he grunts as he’s suddenly flying through the air and straight into the only damned boulder in that section of the forest. Wincing, he rolls off the rock and onto the dirt as a pair of black boots sprints past his head. 

Groaning under his breath, he can feel the cut on his shoulder opening back up again as he sits up. Watching Steve and Natasha battle Thanos in an impossible battle of fists and feet. He just manages to get to his shaky feet when the two are thrown from the man’s large arms. Watching in horror, he tries to run forward as the alien grabs the last stone from Vision’s dead body. His side makes the decision to splinter with pain and send him to the ground as the alien laughs above the beaten warriors. 

The world goes silent around him as a metallic snap echoes through the forest. Glancing up, he met with the mirrored stares of horror from the Avengers around him. They all stare in fear as Bucky stumbles a little and then dissolves before their very eyes. Suddenly his body feels wrong and he looks down at his hands as they start to flake away into black colored ash. Looking up he catches both Steve’s and Natasha’s eyes on him and he can tell his fiancé is panicking in that moment. His nightmare is coming true, the pair can’t save him even as the woman tries to grab what’s left of him as his vision goes black and then blinding white.

“Hey, get up.” Bucky says, his voice cutting through the fog as his eyes snap open. 

Looking around all he sees is a flat grassland with a few scattered trees around them. The sky isn’t normal though, a purplish haze surrounding dark clouds. He doesn’t feel like himself though, almost a ghost that doesn’t feel the pain and aches that his real body should right now. Standing up, the Winter Soldier keeps a hand on his shoulder as he registers himself and the land around them.

“Easy, there’s nothing here to fight.” Bucky says as soon as he watches him tense for a brawl.

“Where are we?” Scott asks, walking with the man toward a large group of Wakandan warriors surrounding their king.

“Wherever the hell Thanos snapped us to, maybe the afterlife.” The older man offers, the sea of warriors parting around them as they get to T’Challa.

“Great.” Scott sighs, smiling as much as he can at the king.

“Do you…” The king goes to ask before the world shifts under them.

His head is pounding as his world materializes again, coming to on his hands and knees as he crawls along that dirt for a minute before pitching forward and resting his forehead on the ground. He feels so damn weak, like the scrawny teenager he was before he’d joined the army. It’s less than ten seconds later before he’s being thrown through a portal though. Suddenly finding himself upright and walking into a blackened wasteland. Looking around he just catches sight of a beaten down and dusty Steve leading their massive army against Thanos.

They don’t get the time to talk though as they’re thrown into the vicious fighting. Scott only catches up to him as they battle Thanos for control of Iron man’s gauntlet that holding those damned infinity stones. His temper flares again as he watches the alien punch his fiancé out cold on the ground and walk towards the gauntlet. Sprinting forward, he slams into the alien with an impossible amount of force given his size compared to Thanos. His hands somehow close on the gauntlet he manages to jump out of the aliens grasp. 

The gauntlet attaches to his right hand like a second glove. Suddenly there’s a surge of power and just pure energy running up his wrist and into his shoulder and chest. It gets hard to breathe as he lift the gauntlet and stares down the terrified looking alien leader. Smirking at the damned man who had caused so much suffering to his land, his people, and his partner he does it. Snapping his fingers together to rid their universe of Thanos and his army he screams as pain lances through his body and his vision goes white. His mouth takes like copper and something burnt as he blinks. 

“Scott, Scott!” Steve yells, slumping down on his knees beside his prone and barely moving partner.

He does his best to give the man a reassuring smile as his voice fails him. Glancing to his side, he can see the charred remnants of his arm and the damage still continuing as the gauntlet remains on his hand and wrist. Tony and Bruce drop on his other side and try to get the damage under control to keep the man from dying in their arms. The foam the billionaire sprays on his arm burns, and the delicate fingers of the doctor do little but prod and cause more pain. As the tendrils of energy started to approach his heart, Tony’s gaze darkened as he starts to charge up his laser on his hand.

“Trust me Rogers.” Tony says, and Bruce catches on immediately.

Scott screams as the billionaire cuts through the meat and bone of his shoulder with his laser, the charred appendage falling uselessly to the equally charred ground. The tendrils stop just as they’re starting to make breathing difficult by curling painfully around and in his right lung. Dr. Strange isn’t far behind, pulling off one of his belts to use as a tourniquet and a scrap of his robe to press against the oozing wound of where his arm used to be. 

“He needs medical attention now.” Tony says, looking up as T’Challa lands near the man’s head.

“We have ships, my sister Shuri will take care of him.” The king says, no room for arguments in his tone as Steve gently picks him up bridal style. 

“Of course. Stark Tower has the medical equipment if you would like to use it. It’s closer and he needs the help now.” The Iron man says, looking over some of the other injured Avengers.

“Let’s get him there then.” T’Challa orders, directing the super soldier to bring his partner to the ship.

It’s a short flight to the slightly darkened tower. Shuri immediately directing some of the guards to help her get the OR ready to treat her good friend. Steve gently lies his only slightly conscious partner on the exam table, helping some of the warriors remove his armor to throw into a bin in the corner. His breath catches in his throat as one of them cuts away the man’s undersuit. Revealing the charred and burn looking tendrils spreading over his chest and the right side of his waist ending at the bleeding stump of his right arm.

“Steve, you need to go.” Shuri says, quickly mixing the pain killer and sedatives that they had made in Wakanda for the super soldiers.

“Alright, take care of him.” Steve says, rubbing his arm as Natasha grabs him by the arm.

“Of course, go.” She orders, walking over with the saline bags she’d filled with the two mixtures.

Steve nods, but leave a little too slowly for the others in the room and he gets pushed to the side by a warrior. He’s about to protest when a bag of shower materials makes it way into his hands along with another for Natasha. Suddenly he realizes just how caked with dust and blood he is. What was he thinking? Being next to his injured partner in so many materials that could heighten chance of further infection. 

So running to the shower on this level, he makes quick work of stripping down and leaving the soiled uniform in the corner of the bathroom. It takes him close to an hour and a half to get all of the blood and dirt off his body. He gently wraps the large cut on his forearm and the one on the inside of his thigh before dressing in a pair of clean boxers and a soft pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt that was in the bag.

Natasha is in the shower with him, gently helping him with his injuries as they wash the grime off each other. They’d grown closer in the five years of pain following the snap. He had been telling everyone that they needed to move on in that damned therapy group, and he had finally on the fifth year did the same himself. It was going to be hard with Scott back now. Feeling almost the same amount of love that he did for Natasha that he had felt for the man. He didn’t think he could survive losing a second lover and Nat had shown him how resilient his was and how he could love a third person. That kind of bond couldn’t be broken now, and he was going to have a long and painful conversation later.

“So, what are we going to do? Since Scott’s back.” Nat asks, feeling his muscles tensing in thought as she working on gently cleaning a rough scrape on his back.

“I don’t know. I love you Natasha, and I think I’ve moved on from him being gone. But we had something too.” He whispers, shaking a little under his hands.

“Whatever you decide, I’m behind you.” She says, a sad smile on her face as she gently keeps the soap from running into the wound.

“Thank you.” He replies, staring at the red tinged water disappearing down the drain.

He’s getting out of the bathroom just as a bed is being pushed out of the OR. Walking a little faster despite his fatigue, he just catches his old partner’s slack face before the bed is turned and pushes in the opposite direction of him. Shuri catches his arm and Nat his other before he can start sprinting after the bed, pressing him inside the OR and into a chair beside the door. Before he can protest, a needle goes into his neck and his vision starts to swim before going dark.

“Did you have to do that?” Natasha asks, her shoulders tense as she watches a handful of people lift the super soldier onto the now clean exam table.

“He needs to be looked at, and we can’t have him running after Scott until we’ve had a chance to stabilize him in a recovery room.

“Alright.” She says, sitting in the chair he had been in as the doctors work on cleaning Steve’s wounds with antiseptic wipes and stitching the larger gashes closed.

“There’s something between you two isn’t there?” The woman asks as soon as the doctors and nurses leave them in peace, Shuri hooking up a monitor to check the Captain’s metabolism rates after such a grueling battle.

“Um, yeah. Five years is a long time after half of your population gets snapped away.” Nat admits, getting up to walk over and take one of the man’s limp hands.

“What about Scott?” Shuri has to ask, knowing that her friend will be devastated to learn that his fiancé has moved on.

“We still have to figure that part out, after everyone is on the mend.” The assassin adds, smoothing the man’s shower damp hair from his eyes.

Shuri nods and gets back to her work from where she had been staring the woman in the eyes to gauge how genuine she was being. They move Steve onto a pullout bed to place in Scott’s small recovery room. One of the only rooms with some semblance of privacy in the tower since more of the wounded army are being flown in by the minute. Natasha sits at the foot of his bed and glances between the two men’s steady rising and falling chest before she leans back against the wall and starts to nod off herself.

Scott wakes up to muffled voices and the steam of a hot shower wrinkling his nose. Cracking open his swollen feeling eyelids, he tilts his head toward the worse side of the steam. His already pained breathing stutters in his chest from what he sees. A very naked Steve and Natasha smiling and embracing as she makes short work of shaving his stubble covered jaw. The remnants of the shower dissipating behind them as their towels sit on the floor beneath their feet.

His chest feels tight and it has nothing to do with the damage that came from the stones and his snap. Some had said it’s been five years, for him five seconds, but for his fiancé and Nat five years. Five years to move on and forget their few years together. He has to squeeze his eyes shut as the familiar steel bands of a panic attack wrapping around his one good lung, his throat, his head, and his damned heart. It feels like the war all over again and his breathing starts to stutter as his heart rate monitor blares an alarm.

There’s the shuffling of two people trying very quickly to put on clothing and that put another shard of pain straight into his heart. There’s a rush of footsteps as a gentle feminine hand lands on his cheek. It’s isn’t Natasha though, he knows that. The calluses are different and the touch almost knowing why he’s in so much pain.

“Easy Scott, just breathe for me.” Shuri says, her hand leaving his cheek to get something ready that involves clinking bottles.

Talking won’t come from his chapped lips, breaths wrenching their way out of his throat with pathetic whines as a masculine hand lands on his shoulder. He can’t help by flinch away from Steve’s attempt at comfort and that hand hesitantly leaves. A tiny pin prick in his neck makes his wince like he just got shot, the panic making his skin hypersensitive. The feminine hand is back on his cheek as she depresses the sedative into his body. A few heart beats come and go and then comforting clouds of fog soothe his mind and the pain in his body as he succumbs to blackness again.

Shuri leaves without another word, making a note in the man’s electronic chart before walking through the door. Steve watches the rise and fall of his old partner’s chest for a time, gently pulling the thick hospital blankets up and over the man’s base torso. Making sure none of the sensors or IV tubes were pinched or blocked while covering him up. Natasha gently smooths the man’s hair out of his eyes before coming to stand beside Steve with her hand on the small of the man’s back.

“He’ll be ok.” She assures, leading them over to sit on the edge of the pullout.

“I know.” Steve says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

The second time he wakes up, Scott is still floating in the fog of high-grade pain killers and the sedative Shuri gave him. Glancing over to his side again he doesn’t see the bathroom light on, but he does catch sight of the pair cuddled together on the pullout. The only light in the room is coming from the streetlights outside, so it must be late night or early morning. The sight makes him sick to his stomach and he has to actively control his breathing so he doesn’t have another panic attack. Shuri has probably been dealing with wounded all day, so on the off chance she’s actually resting he would rather not disturb her. His heart betrays his brain though as his monitor starts blaring an alarm again. 

“You really need to stop stressing yourself Scott.” Shuri mumbles as she stumbles into his room in a pair of pajamas with a lab coat pulled hastily over.

“Trying.” He croaks, his chest rising and falling with pained gasps.

“I know, just relax.” She says, injecting him with another dose of the sedative.

It’s hard to wake up the third time, not wanting to have to be thrown into another forced sleep if he sees something his weary mind and body can’t handle. Luckily his room seems to be empty save for Shuri’s gentle and nimble fingers applying some sort of salve to his deep burns. The cool air sending an involuntary shiver through his abdomen as it brushes along said burns stretching from his collar bone to his hip and halfway across his chest. 

“Good afternoon Scott.” The woman greets, grabbing a hospital cup with a straw for him to take a few sips from.

“Hey.” He says, his voice quiet and broken from disuse.

“How’s your pain? Scale one to ten.” She asks, placing the cup on the table before pulling on another set of surgical gloves to keep applying the special salve.

“Three if I lie still. Ten if I breathe to deep.” He replies with a pained smile, trying to savor the comfort of the bed under him rather than focus on the ache of what feels like every fiber of his body.

“Alright. I’m doing my best here to treat you, but this isn’t my lab. That and I’ll need to return home soon to care for my, our people.” She admits, covering the salved areas with thick white bandages.

“I wanna go home.” Scott finally says, his breathing shaky again.

“If you’re sure.” She says, her gaze wandering to the pullout bed with the two other’s belongings on it.

“I am, I need to heal before dealing with any of that and Wakanda is my best chance.” He says, already feeling exhausted again.

“Ok, we’re going to leave tonight. Do you need anything now?” Shuri asks, covering him up with the blankets again.

“Can I have crackers or something light like that?” He asks, wincing a little but breathing a little easier as she elevates his bed.

“Of course, just eat slow.” She instructs, grabbing a small wrap of crackers from the stores of the cabinets to place on his tray table. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon chewing through that wrap, taking sips of his water bottle in between. Idly watching the TV mounted high on the wall in front of his bed set to some game show. His fingers are still to clumsy to switch the channel and a few hours later when Ayo and Shuri walk in he’s muttering to himself how stupid the people on the rerun are for not guessing what was obvious to him. 

“Ready to go Scott?” Shuri asks as Ayo shuts off the television.

“Yeah, I am.” He nods, wincing as he’s lifted onto a Wakandan floating stretcher that’s somehow more comfortable than the bed he was just in.

He’s flanked by no less than six Wakandan warriors that he recognizes from M’Baku’s tribe as they move through the crowded hallways of the medical wing of the tower. They get as far as the landing pad before a familiar voice stops Shuri. The rest of the warriors makes sure his stretcher is secured to an attachment on the seats of the ship. After he’s secure the top half of it elevates so that he’ll be in a comfortable position for the short flight home.

“And where do you think you’re taking Captain America mark 2?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Home, where he wants to go Mr. Stark.” Shuri says, mirroring his stance with a determined smile of her own as she steps onto the ship.

“Fights over Tony.” Bucky says, walking onto the ship as well with a relaxed smile.

“I don’t think Cap is going to be happy about that. this.” He says, knowing in the back of his mind he can’t stop this unless he wants to become a Wakandan kabob.

“Probably not, but he knows where to find him.” She says, waving goodbye as the ramp to the ship closes.

Scott is very thankful for the engineering of Wakanda’s ships. As they fly he hears the pilot call out storm warnings and wind directions to the co-pilot he doesn’t feel a thing. The ride is as smooth as taking a dip in the small pond beside his home just under the waterfall. Shuri giving him a half dose of a muscle relaxer and a full does of his pain killers helps alongside that easy flight. 

“So how did it feel to have the power of the universe?” M’Baku asks, holding his hospital water bottle straw to his friend’s lips as they near the coast of their home continent.

“It hurt.” He says, smiling after he finishes his small sips.

“But you did it.” Bucky replies, patting him on his good shoulder before sitting down in a row of seats opposite the pair.

“Yep, at the cost of losing another appendage. At this rate I’ll be a robot by the time I’m forty.” Scott chuckles, gesturing with his hand for another sip of water.

“I never did ask how old you actually are?” The man asks, letting the other sip his water down to the halfway mark on the bottle.

“Thirty-one.” He answers, letting the straw fall out of his mouth to lean his head back against the pillow Shuri had shoved under it.

“So nine more years of being human.” The man laughed, his voice drawing a smile from his friend’s face.

“What the words now, twinning?” Bucky pipes up, lifting his metal arm with a smirk.

“I suppose so.” Scott chuckles even though it hurts a little to do so.

“We’re landing, please take your seats.” The pilot announces before they can continue their bantering.

A genuine smile spreads over his face as the ramp drops and he sees the welcoming party of smiling faces waiting for them. T’Challa is the first to step forward and pat his good shoulder as they move him toward Shuri’s lab. The doctor wastes little time in moving him to the exam table he’d had surgery on before. The stretcher disappearing out of sight as she gets to work on his beaten body. Vibranium healing pellets are gently inserted under his skin around the burns and the worst of the damage. But thanks to the effects of a very small dose of the pain killer Scott barely feels them as he’s bandaged up and moved into a soft recovery bed with an IV and sensors.

“The Captain did not return with him?” Her brother asks after a few moments, watching her gently tuck a few thick blankets around his shoulders.

“It has been five years brother, it seems the Captain has moved on. Time will tell if their bond will be renewed.” Shuri explains, turning down the lamp that was attached to the man’s tray table.

“We will support him in the meantime then.” T’Challa says, looking up as Bucky comes down the ramp with a tray of four teacups.

“As much as I like my best friend, them making out in the bathroom of his hospital room was a dick move.” Bucky explains, handing a cup to the two standing.

“You saw that?” Scott asks weakly as the other super soldier pours his warm tea into a secure cup with a straw.

“I was reading a book on the other side of your bed, the couple times you woke up and panicked. They were from watching those two together. I’m sorry man, Steve’s a good man but he needy for comfort.” The older man explains, helping his shaky hand grip the cup to take a drink.

“I understand, just wish it didn’t hurt so much.” The younger man says, sipping his tea and silently thanking the soldier for helping him.

Shuri goes back to her work in the lab while her brother goes back to running his country again. Bucky reveals a couple of books he was carrying beneath the tray and takes a seat in a comfy chair next to the other’s bed. Scott does his best to let sleep overtake him again, but his body feels a little off from the serum and vibranium working to heal him. That and the constant stream of drugs running through his system is giving him a little bit of vertigo as he closes his eyes and just tries to breathe through it.

“So, what’s the metal arm like?” Scott eventually asks, tired of the relative silence of the lab when his head is swimming like it is.

“Like a normal arm, it’s kind of like having a tooth filling. Get’s hot and cold in those temps in the oddest ways.” The older man explains, raising said arm for Scott to get a closer look at it.

“Oh, your shoulder ever get sore with it on?” He continues, knowing where his flesh and metal met on his leg sometimes got achy if he walked to much that day.

“Only when I overdo it, Shuri makes really good connection surfaces with the vibranium. You’ll barely feel it using the muscles of your shoulder.” The soldier explains, closing his book to give the man his full attention.

“I thank you for your compliment Mr. Barnes.” Shuri says, walking between the pair for a moment.

She takes her time measuring his stump, accounting for the swelling that would go down over time in her report on her data pad. Then measuring the length of his other arm so that his replacement will match it in size and stature. Apologizing when her ever delicate touch on his bad arm causes him to wince, she double checks that his burns are starting to heal before returning to her lab table. The shell of his arm already starting to be assembled by her machines with her entering his measurements.

“It should be done within a few hours Scott, but you’re going to need to finish healing before we attach the necessary attachments to your arm.” She explains, covering him back up with his blankets.

“Of course, trust me I’m not about to jump out of this bed to get it on just yet. Still pretty tender.” He admits, feeling the familiar exhaustion starting to pull at the edges of his consciousness at last.

“I bet, get some rest hero.” Bucky says, going back to his book as Scott’s eyes slip closed against their will.

While Scott’s sleeping and at peace, Steve is all fury and wide-awake energy despite his healing aches as storms down the hallways of the Stark Tower medical ward. Natasha is close behind him as he blazes a path toward his objective like the true soldier he is. He’d woken up from Shuri’s little sedative attack to the news that Scott had gone back to Wakanda without even talking to them, to him. It infuriated him to no end, they had needed to talk and Tony was spouting off something about healing before talking.

“Steve for god’s sake slow down, you’re going to, never mind.” She says watching a small trail of crimson run down and soak his pants from his popped stiches in the inside of his thigh.

“I need to go see him, to talk.” The man snaps back ending up at the elevator door intent on making it to the hanger.

“You need to calm down and stitch your leg back up. Talking now, wound up as your are is only going to cause more issues than fix them.” She says, pulling the syringe from her pocket as he grunts in frustration at the elevator Tony had locked down long ago.

“I need to talk to him.” Steve growls, letting out a yelp as that syringe pierces the skin of his neck, cool liquid flowing into his veins.

“You need to rest.” She says, finding a look of astonishment on his face as he passes out in her arms.

“Good work.” Tony says, coming up behind her along with Thor to help lift the large soldier towards his and the woman’s apartment.

“Why’d you let them leave?” Natasha asks, helping Thor situate the man in bed before pulling off his soiled sweatpants. 

“What, did you want me to wage war against eight Wakandan warriors and Barnes? Just to make an injured man stay here against his will. They have better medical facilities for him there. That and I do think they have a point about healing before emotional battles.” Tony explains, handing the woman the necessary supplies to wrap the man’s bloody thigh.

“No, but you could have at least let someone know and stalled them.” She offers, finishing taping up the gauze pad before tucking blankets around him.

“Yeah well, how much more of that sedative do you have for the sleeping bear here?” He asks, changing the subject.

“One more dose, Shuri didn’t exactly leave the formula.” Nat says, tucking said syringe into her dresser for safe keeping.

Scott wakes up easily the next time, the smell of food drifting under his nose as he cracks open his eyes. There’s a tray of cut up chicken, seasoned rice, and steamed veggies on his table that now positioned over his lap. A spill safe cup of water and juice are beside a small cup of three pills. Lifting his shaky hand, he down the pills with a gulp of water before picking up the fork. It seems like he hasn’t eaten well for weeks and with his increased metabolism he’s absolutely starving. It takes a lot of self-control not to scarf down his food. He’s basically licking the tray when Shuri walks in ten minutes later with an uncontainable smirk gracing her features. 

“Up for seconds?” She asks, getting a shy but eager nod in return.

“Thank you.” He says, smiling down at his lap as she leaves and returns a few minutes later with the tray refilled with what looks like double the servings he’d had on the first.

“Course, I was going over the scans I took of your metabolism and you Scott need at least seven thousand calories a day regularly. With all this healing, it’s bumped up to ten thousand.” She explains, refilling his juice and water as well from her personal fridge down here in the lab.

“You not taking a lot of scans are you?” He has to ask as he’s chewing on a piece of chicken.

“Just the necessary ones, you’re not a lab rat I promise.” She says, knowing enough of his back story of never do that to him no matter how intrigued with the super soldier projects she was.

“Thanks.” He says genuinely, getting his appetite back to start digging into his meal.

“No problem, how are you feeling despite the hunger?” She asks, walking over to his bad side to gently lift the bandages from his tender shoulder.

“Good, not to sore thanks to the miracle of medicine.” Scott says, picking up a piece of a green colored vegetable with his fork.

Nodding, she waits until she finishes his meal before sitting him up further. Lowering his blankets, she gently peels away off of the bandages covering his burns. Exposing them to air makes him hiss at the sting, but they’re much more healed then a few days ago. They’re definitely going to scar though. 

“I know it’s going to hurt, but take as deep as breath as you can for me.” She instructs, getting a hesitant look from him but a nod, nevertheless.

Steeling himself, he breathes in deep until a stab of pain goes through his right lung and leaves him coughing roughly bent at the waist. Shuri keeps him upright with a sturdy hand on his left shoulder as he works to slow and control his breathing. Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, she gently leans the man back against the bed.

“I’m going to touch your burns to gauge the feeling that you have in those areas, tell me if you’re in too much pain as I go. You’re doing very well Scott.” She reassures, delicately touching the top of his shoulder with her gloved finger. 

Turns out he has feeling in every inch of skin that been burned, the worst bouts of pain being just below his armpit along his ribs. Shuri makes quick work of moisturizing them with the burn salve before reapplying his bandages but not replacing his blankets. He looks exhausted from the small amount of medical testing she’s already done, but she needs at least one more to form a base line for him.

“One last thing, can you try and walk for me?” She asks, getting a long sigh before he nods.

Bucky manages to appear from where he’d been working at a lab bench a few feet away. Taking his good side as he swings his legs over the side of the bed on his own, he gently helps the other soldier stand on his shaky feet. It takes him a few not to deep breathes before he gestures for Bucky to let go of his arm. Taking a few steps, he measures his breathing against the deep ache in his chest. Luckily that’s where it seems to reside, his legs feel a little stiff but otherwise unharmed. His abdomen aches a little but not like the upper part of his chest does. 

“How you doing Scott?” She asks, her hand on the small of his back as Bucky and her stay close by just in case he stumbles on his small walk around the center of the lab.

“I’m ok, might need to lie back down though. Chest really hurts.” He says, breathing getting a little harder for him.

“Alright, you did very well considering what you’ve been through.” Shuri assures, as they ease him back into bed and cover him with the thick blankets. 

“Yeah, hey during those scans. What did my lung look like, it’s kind of hard to breathe?” Scott explains, letting his IV get put back in along with another injection of his medication. 

“It’s thirty six percent burned like your shoulder, I’ve been injecting it with vibranium and some stimulating agents for the serum while you’re asleep. It’s been improving slowly but surely.” She replies, pointing to said very long needle with three vials of medicine set neatly by it.

“Oh, yeah save that for when I’m asleep please.” He almost squeaks, averting his eyes from said needle before he gets sick.

Honestly, he blames the army for his aversion to needles. His intake before bootcamp has been comprised of medics stabbing his shoulders with three-inch-long needles on their industry line of vaccinations required to go into combat. After his last medical checkup, he’d been yelled at to start training. Doing pushups with blood dripping down his arms and that ache in his muscles had him regretting many of his life decisions up until that point.

“Don’t worry, I will. You are basically working at half lung capacity right now though, so take it easy.” She adds, checking over his vitals one more time before going back to her work.

“You know, Steve’s been trying to call me.” Bucky says as soon as she’s out of ear shot and he’s put himself back in the seat by his bed.

“I don’t think I can take that conversation right now.” Scott says honestly, suddenly feeling what must be a food coma coming on.

“I understand, just thought you should know.” The man says, gently patting his knee before standing back up.

“Thank you, I honestly thought you’d be completely on his side over mine.” The younger man admits, reaching over to decline his bed until he’s just nearly entirely horizonal. 

“I’ve seen how good you two were together, both good people down deep. I don’t want to see either of your get hurt in all this.” Bucky explains, turning off the lamp beside the man to give him some real darkness to fall asleep in.

“Thanks Bucky.” Scott says, letting his eyes slip closed. “I can call you that right?”

“Course, sleep tight.” The man says, bringing his blankets up and over the man’s shoulders before quietly sneaking away from the man’s beside.

Walking to the other side of the lab he plants himself on Shuri’s right side. She’s working on the second arm on the table, her skilled fingers putting together the delicate wiring. Picking up the other arm of the table, his eyebrow raises on the fact of how lightweight it is. She’s smiling beside him as she works, glancing to her side when he starts to examine the new arm.

“Try it on, it’s a lightweight model. Not for combat, but for daily life. If you like it take it home to your little farm. It should be less cumbersome than that model.” She explains, and he waists little time with the prospect of being able to rid himself of the heavy weight on his left side.

Detaching the arm is easy as long as he can hit the release at the right timing. It comes off with a hiss and he sets it down carefully on the table before grabbing the lightweight one again. Placing it on his connector plate, it attaches easily to his stump. A little bit of a shock runs through his shoulder as it registers with him implant and nerves. But as he starts to flex his metal fingers, a smile blooms on his face at how lightweight it actually is.

“I like it.” He finally says, arranging his sleeve over the upper part of the arm.

“Keep it, this one is for Scott and I’ll make another heavy one for him as well just in case the world decides to have another war.” She explains, getting back to her work as the man grabs his heavy arm and takes his leave.

It takes about four days for his serum and the vibranium to heal him enough to limp around the lab. He figures that he must look ridiculous to Shuri because she laughs every time she catches sight of him. Clad in a pair of sweatpants, a short sleeve shirt, and two jackets with the hood of the first pulled over his head. He’s definitely not what someone would call a super soldier right now when he looks this pathetic. Tired, achy, and limping around with his one hand pressed against his bad side. 

“Are you still cold? I raised the temperature as much as I could in this lab.” Shuri says, lifting her head from her work to regard the slightly shivering man on the stool across the table she’s working at.

“I’m ok, am I bothering you?” Scott asks, snuggling into his thick jacket nevertheless as he watches her work.

“Of course not, just need to make sure you won’t keel over on me. Wanna try it on today?” She asks, nodding to the prosthetic arm on the table.

He’d been hesitant to try on the arm so far, still not feeling up too much in the way of expending too much energy. His shoulder still ached slightly from the burns and the implant that Shuri had attached a day ago. But he also knew that it was part of healing and getting better, eventually getting out of this lab and back home to continue that life of peace. So with a nod, he peels off both of his jackets and rolls up his short sleeve. 

“Bucky says it usually feels like a mild shock when he puts his on, the nerves firing connecting and all that.” She explains, lifting the arm to the slick black surface of the implant covering his shoulder.

“Yeah, ow.” Scott says, his face scrunching up slightly as the arm snaps into place with the help of the magnetic forces of the vibranium.

“Give yourself a minute to get used to it.” She says, getting back to her other project.

Nodding, he takes his time flexing his metallic fingers and then moves to rotating his wrist. There’s a smile on his face as soon as he starts to flex his elbow and move the arm around by his shoulder joint. It’s a nice, smooth, and almost better than natural feeling compared to his other arm. With Shuri’s expertise woven into every thread he can also tell the difference between hot and cold temperatures, even feel most surfaces with his artificial skin. It brings a feeling of being whole that he had not been concentrating on for a while during his recovery.

“It feels good.” He says, shrugging his jackets back on as he begins to shiver at the cool air coming over his body.

“Any rubbing against your burns?” She asks, smiling herself as he snuggles back into the soft fibers of his jacket with both sleeves now filled out.

“No, it’s really comfortable. Thank you.” Scott replies, catching a piece of vibranium that nearly falls to the floor to pass back to her.

“It’s my pleasure, you wanna help?” Shuri asks, passing him a small soldering torch.

“Uh, sure. You’ll have to teach me though, I might be an American guy but I never really got into the hands-on stuff.” He admits, trying to summon his knowledge from a class in high school and the time he spent drinking beer with the army mechanics to his advantage with this.

Several hours later Shuri manages to talk him through how to solder and manipulate vibranium. He’s left on his own to try and build a simple clock as she goes back to her own projects. It’s nice in a ways, even though he feels like a kid making a paper airplane while his mother is experimenting with nuclear physics. He’s biting his bottom lip and squinting his eyes in concentration when the time starts to blink on the sleek display.

“Eureka!” Scott cheers, smiling ear to ear as Shuri glances over at him and starts to laugh.

“Good, want to move on?” She asks, pointing to a whole book of vibranium technology.

“No, I wanna keep working on this.” He says with a shy smile, figuring he’ll make it change colors or something rather than rack his brain with the next level of this stuff.

His chest is starting to ache a little from sitting up for hours on end, but at least his breathing is much better than it was when he first decided to switch from horizontal to vertical. So punching in the familiar controls to the fabricator that he’d used a few times in the garage when Steve was away, he gets to his feet and pads over to his familiar bed. He’d been able to keep enough food and drink down that he would be able to just sleep without an IV, the humiliating waste collection bags, and the sticky sensors. Curling up in his bed, he drags a blanket over his shoulders and slips his hood over his eyes. 

“Get the needle away from my neck.” Scott mumbles angrily from his position curled up in his apartment bed.

“Are you not going to run down to the elevator and try to steal a quin jet?” Natasha asks, sitting back on her heels with the syringe held tightly in her nimble fingers, the glass of it clinking against the ring on her finger.

“Maybe.” He mutters, rubbing his lethargic muscles as he glares at his fiancé.

“I need a promise Steve, not a maybe.” She says, gently patting his blanket covered leg.

“Fine, I promise. Please don’t give me that again, it really sucks when you’re not hurt.” Steve grumbles, eyes tracking her hand as she places the drug down on their nightstand before curling up in the bed next to him.

“Of course hon, how’s the arm?” She asks, trying to keep his attention away from the elephant in the room as she traces a gentle finger down the reddened scar on his forearm.

“Alright, just a little sore. Are you ok?” He asks, suddenly feeling like a bad partner for not checking up on her during this whole situation.

“I’m alright. I’ve been coordinating with Tony and some other world leaders to get everything back on track and take care of people.” She yawns, snuggling into his everlasting warmth with a content sigh.

“You should get some rest.” He mumbles, kissing her on the forehead.

“Only if you stay.” She says, kissing his back before they curl up in each other’s arms as slip off into a mutual slumber.

Scott winces a little as he lifts his leg to navigate the steps leading to his front door. Bucky’s real hand is a pleasant feeling where it’s laid between his shoulders just in case he needs the support. It’s been two and a half weeks since the endgame battle and Shuri had given him permission to return home. Satisfied that he was healthy enough to not kick the bucket without constant supervision. He felt ready too, a warm smile making the corner of his cheek turn up at getting to actually be back _home._

“I always forget how nice your house is compared to mine.” Bucky jokes, setting Scott’s bags from the tower down on his couch.

“Thought you liked rustic.” Scott shoots back, chuckling as he takes a heavy seat in his recliner to kick his feet up.

“I do, you alright to be on your own?” He asks, handing the man a blanket from the couch.

“Yeah, go take care of the goats. Tell Steve the goat I said hi.” The younger man says with a smile, getting a snort from the super soldier.

“I will, call if you need anything. I’ll be by to make sure you’re still alive.” The older man says, patting his shoulder before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

He decides to take a quick cat nap in his chair for close to four hours. His bladder wakes him up and he groans at the still stiff muscles in his body as he makes the short walk to the bathroom. Shuri had been very kind as to send a few of the royal guard in advance to clean up the house and store Steve’s belongings away in the garage. It was a nice touch not to have to see the man’s toothbrush right now, getting used to living on his own for a little while before tackling that issue. After relieving himself, he strips off his clothes and steps into the shower.

Sighing in content as the rainfall showerhead gently sprinkles warm water over his body, he tilts his head forward and just takes a minute to breathe. His burns have long scared over by now, just bumpy white indents in their path. There was still some lingering soreness and shortness of breath every now and again, but they were largely improving day by day now. So scrubbing down his body with his Wakandan soap, he just relishes the alone time.

Spending a good twenty more minutes in the shower, he turns off the water reluctantly. Stepping out into the steamy bathroom to grab a towel, he makes his way to his bedroom after collecting his clothes on the floor as well. It doesn’t take him long to change into a clean pair of his Wakandan clothes, the comfy fabric making him relax even more as he walked back to the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of ice water before grabbing his jackets and stepping outside to his porch.

Closing his eyes he can just take a moment and breathe the fresh air, listen to the gentle rumble of the waterfall in the background. This was home, this was his home no matter what. He’d had a long conversation with T’Challa about it, about not placing his own life in the hands of another to decide his fate. It had been a hard conversation, to think that he might be alone for a long time before finding someone again. But that it might also not be too much of bad thing to live on his own for a little while and just live his life in peace.

Resting one hand protectively over his side on reflex, he keeps his metal hand on the railing as he walks down the stairs. The dirt path crunches under his feet as he walks over to his overgrown garden. He’s in no state to be weeding right now though, a lot of aches coming up if he overdoes it. Shuri had made him learn that when stress testing his physical condition the other day. It’s a nice sight though, to see some of his plants still growing even without his careful tending.

Turning on his heel, he makes his way to the back of the property. The mountain made sure that they’re property was backed into a secure corner. Only the thick forest and the waterfall adding to the stunning display of the landscape. Taking a seat on one of the large rocks near the small pond the waterfall fed, he let the mist of the falling water touch his face before evaporating quickly. He literally never wanted to go fight again, wanting to just stay in these moments.

A few hours later after coming inside and eating dinner by himself at the dining table, he makes his way back to his bedroom after locking up the house. Stripping down to just his boxers, he takes off his arm and lies on the bedside table before crawling under the blankets of the bed. The sheets had been washed so only the fresh scent of some fruit lingered in the sheets as he closed his eyes. 

_Scott doesn’t know where he is at first, looking around the forested area around him before his eyes focus on two figures sitting on a bench facing away from him towards the still lake. His feet move without his mind telling them too. Until he’s finally coming face to face with the couple. Steve smiling warmly and holding Natasha in his arms as the look down at their laps. A small child wrapped in soft looking white cloth in the woman’s lap._

The sheets are sticking to his skin when he wakes up gasping, hand flying to turn on the light to make him realize he’s home and not in some forest with his mind showing him his ex-fiancé happy with another person. Glancing over at his self-made clock, he sees that it’s reading three hours into the morning. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he lets himself fall back into his soft bed and just let himself calm down for a few minutes. He dozes off without noticing or turning the lamp off.

“And where do you think you’re going Mr. Rogers?” Tony asks, stopping his friend from going from the common area and into the elevator he just came out of.

“Going to the gym, I need to let off some steam.” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the doors slide shut as the lift goes to another floor.

“No, you mister are still on medical restrictions by our good doctors. And I could use your help in planning this wedding of mine since my best man bailed on me.” Stark says, referring to Rhodes that had gone back to the pentagon to start reorganizing the defense structure of the United States. 

“Why do you think I would be of any help?” The older man asks, following the man towards his lab, nevertheless.

“Well you are engaged to Natasha so you should be at least thinking about these things. Plus I have it on good authority that you’re an old romantic and I need that touch to make Pepper happy.” The billionaire says, swiping them past the secure door.

“You’re just trying to distract me aren’t you? Did Nat put you up to this?” The Captain asks, rubbing at the still tender puncture wound from the sedative needle on the side of his neck.

“I’m under strict orders to deny everything you just asked. But no, I really need help with this and you’re free at the moment to help. That’s a win-win in my book.” The younger man explains, pointing to a chair at a small metal table for the super soldier to take a seat in.

They spend the next hours debating whether or not the traditional Iron man colors shoulder be integrated into the wedding as Tony’s colors. They had eventually decided that it would be better not to remind Pepper of the armor he’d almost died in on multiple occasions in the last decade. So the man decides to go with a nice royal purple that Steve actually really likes. It’s a nice change of pace to be debating on friendly terms with the man over things that don’t involve the world ending if they make the wrong choice.

“Thanks Rogers, this has been very helpful. She who will not be named would like to see you in the living room though.” Tony says after hour five.

“Thanks for the distraction Tony, let me know if I can help more.” Steve chuckles, getting up off the couch with a grunt as he walks through the still confusing holograms of information.

“Oh you’ll have to, best man.” The man says, holding out his hand with a warm smile on his face.

“You sure?” The older man asks, knowing they haven’t had the sturdiest friendship over the past few years, letting words fly that cut both of them deep.

“I’m very sure,” Tony says, taking the man’s hand and pulling him in for a hug, “Thanks for everything Cap, you really did keep all of us together.” 

Steve can only nod and take his leave, trying to mask his misty eyes as Tony nods at him before getting back to work. Natasha looks up from her spot on the couch watching the television with a warm smile. Opening her arms in a silent invitation, he smirking and uses the warm feeling in his chest to plant one hand on the back of the couch and vault over the back to land beside her. He immediately regrets his thoughtless decision when he feels one of the wooden supports of the couch crack under his hip and send the woman into his lap as the piece of furniture collapses in on itself.

“Awe, dammit.” Steve mutters, leaning his head back against the cushion as a flush of embarrassment heats up his neck and ears.

“Smooth move Steve.” Natasha snickers and damn he’s never heard her sound that amused in his life.

“I didn’t mean to do it.” He whines, burying his head in her shoulder as he hears another set of footsteps comes into the room and groans dramatically.

“How the hell did that happen? Is Bruce in here?” Tony asks, walking around the couch with a face of confusion turning into disappointment.

“He tried to be cool and vault over the back. He’s very sorry.” Natasha assures, patting her fiancé’s back.

“Well, I guess we probably needed new furniture anyway. It’s ok Rogers.” The younger man says, placing his hands on his hips at he gets a look at just how damaged the couch is.

“I really am sorry, I can help move it out of here if you want.” Steve says, lifting his head to rub his arm at the mess he made.

“No, we’ll get someone else to do that. Really don’t worry, you’re not the first Avenger to wreck the furniture in this building. Bruce has about ten pieces to his name, Thor has couple, and hell I think Scott tried the same thing you did and broke the couch that used to be in the training room.” The man explains, missing how the pair tensed at the mention of the other super soldier.

He does end up helping take the broken couch down to the dumpster before coming back up to sit with Natasha in one of the recliners. Snuggling under her to wrap his arms around her waist as she tucks a blanket around them. Watching a crime show as the pair relaxes and Tony sits across from them in another chair asking their opinion on different sectional couches.

Scott doesn’t sleep well that night, getting up at least three more times within an hour before finally giving up and getting out of bed. Feeling that nervous energy running under his skin, he changes into his workout clothes and braves the chilly morning air to go out to the gym. He wastes little time in filling up his water bottle and then wrapping his hands in boxing tape. Setting his water bottle down a little bit away from him on a shelf, he cranks up his music before starting his workout. 

The sun’s starting to rise and shine through the small skylight above the sparring mat when the door opens and closes without him noticing. He’s long thrown sweat soaked shirt onto the ground beside his water bottle, the moisture making his shorts cling to his slightly shaking thighs. The bag is actually starting to crack in a few areas for how long and hard he’s been hitting it. Shuri was going to be both concerned and impressed at his stress testing of it.

He’s starting to feel a little dead on his feet though, the ache in his chest stinging every movement. His breathing coming out in harsh gasps as his still healing lung begs for reprieve. Shaking off the pain and discomfort, he throws another powerful punch and succeeds in breaking the chain holding the bag up. The bag flying across the room to settle pitifully to the floor thankfully without ripping. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he takes one step forward intent on hanging it back up when his legs go out from under him and he goes down on his hands and knees. Suddenly his music quiets to a near whisper and a pair of footsteps approach from his left. He flinches a little when a metal hand lands gently on his back and a flesh and blood one holds up his still full water bottle for him.

“Easy there, overdid yourself a little huh?” Bucky asks, a smile in his tone that Scott can’t see from the sweaty hair lying over his eyes.

“Guess so, you came by pretty fast.” Scott huffs, moving around to sit on his butt before drinking heavily from his water bottle.

“Had a feeling. Either you’d be ok and tending your garden. Or this.” The older man says, gesturing to his general state of exhaustion.

“Could you uh, help me back to the house?” The younger man asks after a few minutes of trying to get his breathing back under control.

“Course, easy now.” Bucky says, gently helping the man to his feet. 

The Winter Soldier sets him down in a chair beside the lockers in order to unwrap his knuckles, turn off the music, and put away the other equipment. After that was done, he gently lifts the man back to his feet before walking outside in the afternoon light. Scott ends up squeezing his eyes shut as the man assists him into the bedroom. Waving the man off, he makes short work of stripping down and taking a quick shower to rinse off the grime from his workout. Dressing in a fresh pair of boxers and a set of light green Wakandan robes he makes his way back into the living room to find Bucky holding out a sandwich with some cut cheese and meat on the side along with his refilled water bottle.

“Thanks.” Scott says, limping over to the dining table to take a heavy seat in one of the chairs.

“How’s the lung?” Bucky asks after he’s nearly halfway through his prepared meal.

“Tight, sore. I know this might be a little personal to ask you, but do you still have nightmares?” The young soldier asks, leaning back in the chair a little to take the weight off his chest.

“I do yeah, most are from my time as the Winter Soldier though. There have been some from the recent hell we’ve all been through. Why, is that what kept you up?” The man replies, getting up to dig through the small bag of pills on the man’s kitchen counter.

“Yeah, but it was mostly nightmares of Steve and Nat together. You know, being alone and all that.” Scott explains, accepting a few of his pain and antibiotic pills with a grateful smile to take with his water.

Bucky nods, giving him a kind and understanding smile because he knows deep down what the older super soldier is going through right now. He’s lost Steve more than once, back in 40s and once after shooting and beating him senseless. Steve is a good man, an amazing friend, and a loyal partner to have in your life. Losing him was heartbreaking just as his friend, to think that Scott lost him after being in love for years and having a real future before the snap it wasn’t right.

“You guys haven’t even talked this over yet, there may still be a chance for you two or three to get together and live happy lives. Remember, you’re supposed to be relaxing and healing for a few more weeks before getting worked up about this.” Bucky reminds him, patting his shoulder before sitting in the chair across from him.

“I know.” Scott says with a smile, taking the last few bites of this sandwich as the other man shucks off his coat to lie across the other end of the table.

They talk for the rest of the afternoon. Mostly about what’s been going on in Wakanda over the five years of the snap’s effects. Venturing into other topics to get to know each other beyond the conversations they’ve had when Steve was their connecting force. In the end Scott feels like he’s made a new and trustworthy friend, and he hopes Bucky feels that he has another person to count on now. The man only stay until the sun starts to dip below the horizon, meaning the man needs to get back to his responsibilities.

“Hey Bucky, thanks for talking and coming to check up on me.” Scott says, lingering in his doorway with a relaxed smile.

“Course Scott, take it easy now.” Bucky says, giving him a two fingered salute before turning on his heel and walking towards his home.

He sleeps better that evening, only waking up to relieve himself after the man made him drink plenty of water following his overexertion. Otherwise he sleeps both deeply and peacefully under the heavy blankets of his bed. Not waking up until the sun is quite a bit above the horizon and the morning dew had evaporated from the grass outside his door. Rolling out of bed proves to be a challenge as his workout from yesterday tugs at his still healing body. Groaning all the way to the kitchen dressed in just his boxers, he smacks his coffee maker a few times before it actually starts to brew the caffeinated liquid that he desperately needs.

It’s not three minutes later that a knock comes on his door. Without his coffee his brain is running short of energy and common sense as he opens the door with a greeting on the tip of his tongue. Brain short circuiting for a moment as he catches sight of T’Challa, Shuri, and Ayo on his porch. He has to wrack his mind for the reasons they’re giving him odd looks rather than smiles and follows those stares down to his almost entirely naked body. Muttering an apology, he leaves the door open before fast walking back to his room. Dressed in the appropriate attire of his form fitting workout pants and a matching long sleeve shirt, he comes back out to the main room to find Ayo holding a cup of coffee for him.

“Sorry about that my King, haven’t had the coffee yet.” He apologies, waving his guests to the large dining table rather than have them stand and talk in his kitchen.

“Call me T’Challa, Scott. It’s alright, according to the White Wolf yesterday was taxing itself on you.” The man explains, accepting a cup himself as he sits down across from him, Shuri sitting beside him while Ayo takes her place beside her king.

“It was, but last night was much better. What do I owe the pleasure of the visit?” Scott has to ask, usually he’ll just get called to the tower in the city if there are issues.

“Well you have proven yourself an honest warrior through service to Wakanda and in the fights for this world with the Avengers. I wanted to offer you a position in the government of our land, since I doubt gardening and watching waterfalls will occupy the rest of your life here.” The King offers, smiling as Shuri picks up the slack of her brother’s cryptic nature.

“In light of recent events the Wakanda tribe elders have elected to create a security council that will oversee securing our people and providing security aid to those that need it elsewhere after. We would like you to be one of the senior leading members on the council.” Shuri explains, lying out a few preliminary files in front of the man.

Biting the corner of his cheek, Scott skims through the files with a keen eye. He’d be used to this job, part of his job as a commanding in the army was making sure the base was secure and that his division of hundreds of men could complete their missions. Doing so for a country would be a bit of a learning curve, but it would also mean that he would have intimate knowledge of their security situation. Plus he did have to admit that he wasn’t one to just sit back and relax like he was sixty and retired, he was a busy body whether he liked it or not.

“Who else would be on the council?” Scott asks after a moment, glancing up from the file to take a sip of his coffee.

“The White Wolf, Ayo, Okoye, and you. The elders, our king, and I would drop by some meetings to give our input to your plans. Basically your council would make security plans and present them to be implemented and the elders would have a vote in allowing them or not.” Shuri explains, smiling as she takes a drink of her own beverage.

“I’ll do it, thank you for thinking of me for it.” The young super soldier says, smiling gratefully at the trio.

“Good, the first meeting will be in the royal tower a week from today.” T’Challa says, shaking his hand firmly.

They talk for close to two hours before the king has to leave to his busy schedule. Scott waves goodbye with a smile and a new purpose. Shutting and relocking his door before going back to the dining table after refilling his coffee cup. Sitting down with the other documents Shuri had shoved his ways, he leans back in the dining chair and starts to read up on the current state of Wakanda security affairs. Eye’s narrowing as he starts to see the outreach projects in cities like Nigeria, London, and New York. Nevertheless, he keeps reading to prepare for the next chapter in his life.

“You know, you look pretty good in purple.” Natasha comments, looking up from her magazine.

Steve cracks a smile at her compliment, knowing that ten other comments were probably on her mind when he looked like this. Arms held straight out to his side in a t-pose as the tailor worked on the suit he was going to be wearing for Tony’s wedding. It was a rich purple suit jacket that had a stunning silver trimmed white vest with matching tie that would go over their long-sleeved black button up shirts, tucked into their black suit pants. Nat was next in line to get her chosen dress fitted to her figure.

“The things I do for Tony.” Steve sighs, getting a laugh from his partner and the woman working on adjusting his jacket to fit more formally to his thinner waist.

“You’re a good friend no doubt. Do you two have to plan anything more or?” The woman asks, putting down her magazine to help the woman hold the two strips of fabric together while she sewed the thread flawlessly into the suit.

“Just some last-minute things. I have to get together with Clint and Banner to plan the man’s bachelor party. You guys sent out the invitations right?” He asks, flinching as the needle accidently pokes his hip.

“Two days ago yeah, Scotts on that list you know that right?” She clarifies, stepping back a little as the tailor moves to his other hip.

“I know, do you think he’s going to be a problem?” Steve asks, rolling his head back and forth to alleviate the sort of shaking muscles of his shoulders.

“No, but we’re definitely going to have to have at least small talk with him. You should be prepared for that at least.” She says, smiling as the tailor lets him lower his arms as she moves to look over the final product.

“Alright. How do I look?” The older man asks, smiling back as he just catches his reflection in the many mirrors around the room.

“Like a million bucks, very handsome.” She amends as his brow furls at the analogy.

“Your turn.” He says with a smirk, kissing her chastely before moving to take off the suit and place it back on the hanger piece by piece as she strips and puts on her dress.

Scott’s in the middle of reading through a stack of reports for the council’s first presentation regarding a project to upgrade the protective stealth field surrounding Wakanda. He’s halfway through the presentation slides themselves when the knock comes at his door. Taking off his new pair of fatigue reducing glasses, he clips them to his sweatshirt before walking to answer the door. He’s met with the smiling face of an older man with a bag full of mail. He’s handed one sturdy envelope before the man gets back in his vehicle and drives towards his next destination.

He doesn’t get a chance to read it before his phones going off on the kitchen counter. Takes a moment to find it under even more paper, he finds that it’s the royal tower calling him. The signal is that of the royal guard so something must be happening for them to call like this. 

“Scott speaking.” He says, tossing the envelope into the pile of papers to get to his computer on the dining table just in case.

“Scott, this is Ayo. Our king just received an invitation to your old friend Tony Stark’s wedding. T’Challa would like you to be on his guard team for the ceremony.” The woman explains, causing him to pale a little.

“I’d be honored, but isn’t that your job?” He has to ask, relaxing in his seat now that he knows it’s not an emergency.

“It is, but he would feel more comfortable with the White Wolf and you at his side as well. Wakanda is one of the most secure places on the globe right now, there could be threats.” The woman presses, getting his attention on his more formal front now that he’s on the council for security.

“I’ll be there when you need me.” Scott says, getting a warm reply as the woman hangs up her end of the line.

Turns out when they need him is the evening after the council gives the four-hour long presentation to the council for their first project. He’s tired, hungry, and a little moody after the hour-long conversation that had followed before it finally got approved. Rubbing his sore eyes, he checks that he has all three of his bags for the one-week trip before stowing them on board the plane. His clothes, armor, weapons, and computer are all packed so that he can be productive while Stark pampers them with a week getaway at his lake cabin. 

“You look tired Sentinel.” Bucky jokes, smiling ear to ear as he stacks his bags beside the other super soldiers in the assigned crates in the middle of the large cargo area of the ship.

“Maybe I wasn’t made to be a diplomat.” Scott shoots, back clapping the equally as tired man on the shoulder.

“No you were, that presentation was amazing and we wouldn’t have been able to convince them unless you had done all that work.” The older soldier says, giving him a proud pat on the back before more footsteps join them.

“Good evening gentlemen, I must say I was impressed at the councils first appearance before the Elders.” T’Challa compliments as he drops his bags as well, Ayo and Okoye follow close behind.

They catch a few restless minutes of sleep on the ride before arriving at the landing area. Flanking the king as they look over the sun that is firmly in the sky that morning. The wedding was supposed to happen at noon, so many guests had already landed and were mingling around the lake shore where the flowers, altar, and chairs were set up. Scott and Bucky had made sure to change into their ceremonial Wakandan suits that Shuri had custom made for them for the ceremony. They were simple dark green suits that mirrored what their king usually wore to his council meetings. There were of course protective vibranium layers weaved into them along with subtle gold accents. 

“Welcome King T’Challa, it’s good to see you again.” Clint greets, dressed up in his purple suit to match Tony’s colors.

“You as well, do we sit anywhere or did Mr. Stark give us assigned seats?” Bucky asks, as Scott and the other two guards glance around to get a lay of the land.

“We do have name cards on the tables, so no having to fight over seats.” The archer assures, leading them to their table in the back for the reception.

T’Challa makes quick work of dismissing them once they realize how low key the whole wedding is and how secure it is with Stark’s own security. Scott grabs himself a drink from the bar before standing at the edge of the calm lake. Sipping the sugary concoction he almost misses the woman sliding up next to him, but he does nearly drop his drink over his chest as a hand lands on his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again Scott, you’re looking much better.” Natasha comments, her gently hand running over his artificial wrist before coming back to cup her drink along with her other hand.

The woman was dressed in a form fitting deep blue dress that all of the bridesmaids were wearing. It showed off her soft shoulders and strong legs, ending just above her knees. Taking his breath away for a moment as he rubbed his artificial arm with his nervous tick. He couldn’t help but smile though, missing the old Avenger life more than he would admit.

“You look stunning Natasha, it’s good to see you too.” He replies, smiling warmly as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Ever the gentlemen aren’t you? How have you been?” She asks, gently prodding him to walk a little further from the noise of the wedding along the shore of the lake.

“Good, T’Challa gave me a new position on Wakanda’s council so that’s been keeping me busy.” Scott explains, fingers scratching at his bad arm as tension curls in his stomach at being led away from the others with the woman almost on his arm.

“I was talking about _you_ Scott, how are _you_ doing?” Nat pushes, putting emphasis on the you in her questions as they get to a fairly secluded part of the shore with a few trees blocking the rest of the wedding from seeing them.

“I’m ok, Bucky has been checking up on me along with Shuri. So you know, I’m not entirely alone.” He says, voice getting softer and a little choked up towards the end.

“Listen, Steve, you, and me are going to have a chat after this wedding is done. I know how close you two were before the snap and I also know how much agony Steve went through after the snap. We don’t want to lose you as a friend or maybe even something more. And you shouldn’t have to exile and bury yourself in work to try and block out the snap.” She explains, gently prying his nervous fingers away from his vibranium arm.

“Ok, we should probably get back.” Scott says, downing the rest of his drink in one go before letting the woman lead him back to the lodge.

The woman lets her arm slip from his elbow as soon as they round the trees. Falling into line with the other bridesmaids as the hours ticks close to noon. Scott takes his place standing just to the side of the porch because he is acting as a bodyguard at this ceremony, not someone that should be sitting in one of the those neatly lined out seats lining the walkway towards the flowery arch. Ayo and Okoye are sitting on either side of his king in the fifth row on the right side. Bucky is off to his left along the lake shore scanning the area with his ever-attentive stare.

He perks up a little as Tony starts to walk down the aisle with his suit done up impeccably. The man is obviously already emotion with his brown eyes already showing signs of being misty as he sets himself on the right side of the altar with Dr. Banner acting as the priest. 

His stomach climbs into his throat as the piano starts to play a soft rhythm and the wedding party starts to walk down the aisle. The first pair is of course Natasha and Steve, her arm hooked in his elbow with her other hand gently resting on his forearm. He looks so much better than he had at the battle against Thanos. Freshly shaved with his hair slicked back not one follicle out of place. The suit framing his glowing form beautifully and he has to stop himself from outwardly breaking down at how much he wants to be back in Nat’s position. 

Thinking he can keep it in check for the ceremony is quickly thrown into a dumpster when Steve looks right at him after he settles in his best man position beside Tony. Those baby blue eyes lock onto his dull gray ones and the little smile that the man sends his way has bile rising in his throat instead of his torn emotions. He needs to get out of here before he throws up or breaks down and the ever-observant Bucky is on it before he can even think about it.

“Scott, you can go if you need to. I got this.” Bucky says discreetly into his earpiece, sending him an understanding nod before placing his eyes back on T’Challa.

“Thanks Buck.” Scott mutters, just catching the crack in Steve’s smile as he turns on his heel and walks away from the ceremony just as Pepper starts to walk down the aisle.

Scott gets as far as the plane they flew in on before he feels that bile climb up his throat again. He just manages to open and close the side door of the plane to get some privacy before stumbling to grab an empty crate that held their suits. Liquid splatters against the metal bottom of the container as his stomach cramps up with tears running down his cheeks. His head is starting to ache as he spits the last of his saliva into the disgusting collection in the bin. Securing the lid over the bin, he grabs a marker and a piece of paper to write a note to not open it and to dispose of it as soon as they get back before making his way to just sit down in one of the seats with his elbow on his knees and head in his hands.

“You ok?” The voice jolts him out of the concentrated effort to quell his rising migraine and emotions as he cracks open his eyes to look up at Bucky’s concerned yet smiling expression.

“I really should have just stayed home, I miss him so much.” Scott says, his voice nearly emotionless and very defeated.

“I know, what did Natasha talk to you about before the wedding?” The man asks, and damn him for being so observant.

“She said that Steve, her, and I should talk after the ceremony. Something about wanting to keep me as a friend or maybe something more. I don’t know if they both want me, or they’re just trying to let me down easy.” He explains, feeling a little ill again but thankfully there’s nothing left in his system.

“Look at it this way, you either get a second chance with two people you love or you get closure and can move on. It’ll be alright Scott.” The man promises, patting his knee.

Nodding, he takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes again as the other man gets up to walk around the ship for a few moments. Not long later a cool water bottle gets pressed into his hand and he takes sips from it without opening his eyes. He gets about five more minutes of his self-deprecating thoughts before Bucky is trying to usher him back to the reception for the wedding. Cleaning up his face and applying some eye drops for his reddened irises, he follows the older super soldier out to the tables where they’re in the middle of serving the salad for dinner.

“Well, look who’s alive.” Tony says from behind him before he can get to the Wakandan table.

“Hey Tony, congrats.” Scott says, accepting the half hug from the older man.

“Oh, it’s just a day that’s been a long time coming. I see you’re taking the Winter Soldier cosplay to the next level.” The billionaire comments, he poking his artificial arm with a smile as he takes a sip out of his drink with the other.

“Bucky said it was twinning.” The younger man chuckles as Tony’s face splits with a wide grin.

“That and this wedding just made my week, maybe my month Scott. Anyway I have to go chat with everyone else at this little shindig so you enjoy yourself.” The man says, patting the man’s arm before wandering off to greet someone else.

The formalities of the wedding pass in a haze for Scott. The dance, cake, and speeches going over his head as they settle into the after party. Tony and Pepper have already retired for the night, mostly just leaving the Avengers to catch up with each other along with some other guests. He’d even bid T’Challa and the other Wakandan guards save Bucky a goodnight as he settled in with another drink on the porch swing of the lodge facing the darkening horizon of the lake. His head is actually starting to swim a little from the amount of alcohol he’d been telling the bartender to put into his drinks.

“I thought we tackled the little alcohol experiment back at Christmas.” Natasha says, flicking the rim of his glass to break him out of his lazy stare at the lake.

“Thought I’d try causal drinking instead of binging this time.” Scott mumbles, the fatigue of barely sleeping that night and the full day rapidly catching up to him.

“We still need that talk, c’mon.” She says, prodding him to stand.

The lack of energy makes him follow the woman with little forethought. They go into the house and down into the basement where Tony had arranged a room for Steve and her. Said man is sitting on the edge of the bed nervously rubbing his hands together dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and for once a loose-fitting t-shirt. Nat wastes little time in tossing her heels to the side to put herself in an armchair between them as Scott leans on the wall across from the man.

“Talk.” Nat orders, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches the men look anywhere but each other for a good three intensely awkward minutes.

“I, I um.” Scott tries, fingers biting into his metal arm and he’s thanking Shuri that vibranium is tougher than his nerves right now.

“Scott, I uh.” Steve tries, his voice failing to a whine as he goes back to rubbing his hands together.

“Oh lord.” Natasha sighs dramatically, setting aside her glass of water to stand up between the two.

Scott doesn’t get a moment to react before her soft lips are on his, kissing him passionately with one of her dexterous hands coming up to trail her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. Unintentionally, he leans into the embrace hands resting on her waist as his own lips stop being hesitant. Before they can get much further she pulls away with a warm smile on her face, her hand that isn’t in his hair coming up to rest on his cheek.

“Now kiss your fiancé Scott.” She says, pushing him gently forward into Steve’s space.

“Steve.” Scott says, his jaw trembling as his old lover stands up with a shy smile, something else in his eyes from watching the other two kiss as well.

“Scott.” The older man says, curling his hands around the man’s waist to kiss him deeply.

It reignites the passion in his chest as they wrap their arms around each other and smile into their kiss. Steve’s hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the dog tag chain under the man’s Wakandan suit still holding both of their tags and the younger man’s two rings that weren’t currently on his fingers. It’s the older soldier that ends up backing him up to the bed, the younger’s knees hitting the edge as they fall back onto the bouncy bed wrapped up in each other. Scott’s just about to give in to his urges when he remembers a crucial fact, they’re not the only two in the room.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account boys.” Natasha says, smirking as she lounges back in her chair with Scott’s drink in her hand.

“Do you guys really want this, really want me?” Scott has to ask because he’s on the edge of something beautiful right now in his imagination.

She answers his question by climbing onto the bed with him and kissing the younger man within an inch of his life before pulling away as one of her hands trails down his chest. Moaning breathlessly as Steve takes the hint and starts to kiss down his neck with his own callused hands trailing over well known parts of his fiancé’s body, he gives in to the sensations and surrenders himself to the pair. Pleasure filled hours late he ends up sandwiched between the two with a love drunk dumb expression on his face.

“I think we wrecked him darling.” Nat whispers, gently dragging the blankets up to cover their bare bodies.

“Mhm fine.” Scott mumbles, turning over so that his face is pressed into Steve’s rumbling chest.

“Sure you are soldier.” Steve chuckles, watching the woman gently trace the burn scars on the man’s back with her delicate and powerful fingers.

“Are you gonna come home?” The young man has to ask with thick hesitation in his voice as he curling his fingers into the man’s hips.

“What’d you say Nat, wanna come live in paradise?” The older soldier asks, smiling over the younger’s pliant shoulder.

“You really think T’Challa would let me in there?” She asks, knowing deep down that she would love nothing more than to retire with the two men in a place like what the older man described as a place of peace and healing for them both.

“I have some pull.” Scott mumbles, yawning as he snuggles down between the two with a content smile on his kiss swollen lips.

Two strong pairs of arms wrap around him as the quiet of the lake night sets upon the lodge. For the first time since the snap he sleeps without dreams, surrounded by an unimaginable warmth. He was finally home.

“You too?” Tony asks the next morning as the billionaire joins him at the small dining table in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee like it was his pride and joy.

They’re the only ones awake at the moment as the first rays of the dawn light start to stream through the porch windows. Tony sits down with a grunt and points with a knowing smile between the deep bruises on both of their necks. 

“It was two against one, and it was the best and worst thing ever.” Scott says smiling dumbly over his morning tea that he’d dug through the cabinets for.

“I’m glad for you kid, hey just so you know I do have a hot tub.” Tony offers, and they both smile before grabbing their cup and heading outside.

That’s where Pepper, Steve, and Nat find them when the trio finally makes it out of their beds later that morning. Most of the other wedding guests had gone back home that night or earlier in the morning. T’Challa leaving him a message to call when he needed a transport to come back home. Nat laughs behind her own cup of coffee when she catches the two soaking in the hot tub chatting as the trio prepares breakfast. It doesn’t take them much to blush as they come inside and dry up before dressing and joining everyone else in the kitchen.

“Hi uncle Scott.” Morgan says, hugging his sweat pant clad leg before smiling up at him.

“Hey kiddo, did you have fun yesterday?” Scott asks, picking up the little girl as she raises her arms in the silent question.

“Yeah, I got to throw the flowers.” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck to lean her head on his shoulder as he takes a seat on one of the bar stools.

“I know, you did awesome.” He says, knowing he didn’t exactly see it when he was freaking out yesterday.

He doesn’t notice Nat looking at him from where she’s sipping her coffee by the kitchen sink, her eyes moving from watching Steve make breakfast to where Scott’s interacting with Morgan. She can say for certain that one of the qualities she loves in a man is his ability with children. She’d seen Steve effectively astound a boy during one of their trips to the Smithsonian. Taking the upset boy from where he’d tripped on the ground, tears dropping onto his Captain American shirt and hoisting him onto his hip. 

The boy’s father had followed them in awe as Steve walked around his own exhibit with the boy, telling him little secrets that wouldn’t show up on the walls of the museum. The small boy had been smiling ear to ear the whole way through the informal tour and was basically clinging to her fiancé’s shoulder through the walk. He didn’t even cry when Steve set him down as the day started to come to an end and some of the employees were dropping hints that they’d be closing soon. Steve hadn’t hesitated to give the young boy a hug as they separated. And Nat would forever deny the tears that had come out of her eyes when she had caught Steve packing a few of his old gloves and a signed war bond from the 40s into a package for Happy to deliver to the boy.

Now watching Scott easily entertain Tony’s daughter with goofy and open facial expressions, she knew she was falling in love faster with the man.

“You lovebirds didn’t break my guest bed did you?” Tony asks as they start digging into their eggs, bacon, and pancakes at the dining table.

“Tony for god’s sake.” Pepper groans, thanking some higher force that Morgan was more engrossed with her cartoons on the couch with Thor than listening to her father speak.

“What? I just need to know if I need to burn the mattress, order a new one, or something like that.” He says, throwing up his arm as he chews through a piece of pancake.

“It’s mostly intact.” Nat says, smirking behind a strip of bacon as her two men blush deeply.

Scott chooses not to intervene at that moment, feeling a little drained from his lost night of sleep before the wedding, the wedding itself, the night of the wedding, and the emotional drain that had come with it. He woke up still tasting the bile in the back of his throat from during the wedding and he’s been feeling off in a sense ever since. Like he needed to go just take a nap for the rest of the day rather than keep his eyes open any longer. Excusing himself to the bathroom, he gets downstairs to the bathroom and locks the door behind him.

Kneeling over the toilet, he just gets the lid open before he’s throwing up again. His stomach cramping painfully as his chest pangs with an ache he thought had been long healed by now. Breathing heavily, he spits the last of his foul taste in his mouth into the porcelain bowl before flushing and lowering the lid. Washing out his mouth with the mint flavored wash under the sink he makes his way back to the guest room to curl up on the bed with the lights turned low. Begging some deity to not let his headache transform into a migraine. 

Luckily he’s learned long ago that the gods hate him so he’s not really surprised when said headache blooms into a painful migraine that has him burrowing under the blankets and pillows for some relief. It slowly starts to recede as sleep pulls at the edges of his mind, Jarvis lowering the blinds and effectively blacking out the room as soon as the program had noticed his predicament. He’s just about to conk out into unconsciousness when the door to the room carefully opens and closes and the bed dips in front of him.

“Hey handsome, what’s going on?” Steve asks softy, gently running his fingers through the man’s exposed hair peaking out from under the blankets.

“Just tired, I’ll be up in a few.” He mumbles, pressing his head into the man’s hand with a sigh.

“Ok, just yell if you need anything ok.” The older man says, kissing the top of the younger’s head before retreating from the room.

Nodding, he feels the man get up and hears the door open and close again with some hushed voices following it. He’s about to drift off to sleep again when the door opens and closes. The sound of some clothes hitting the floor confusing him as a lighter weight settles in the bed behind him. Suddenly a warm body is pressing up against his back with a gentle hand running through his hair as the other wraps around his waist.

“Nat?” He asks, pressing back into the comforting heat behind him as his aches start to diminish.

“Shh, go to sleep Scott.” She whispers warmly, kissing the back of his neck as he nods and slips off into sleep.

_It’s that same bench, but now there are three figures at it. The viewpoint he’s locked in slowly pans around the back of the bench to reveal the smiling figures of Steve and Natasha cradling that same small pink bundle between them. But in a twist from the other dream Scott’s standing close by with a tiny blue bundle held securely in his arms with a broad smile on his face. The area is misty unlike the lake, but he feels so calm in that moment that he can’t help but smile._

“Are you seeing this?” Natasha asks quietly as she gently runs her hand up and down the young man’s pliant back as Steve lies on his side on the other side of the man.

“He’s smiling, it’s cute.” Steve comments, smiling as the younger snores softly under his breath looking relaxed as ever.

They end up staying at the lodge for the rest of the day and that night before Scott calls in a request for their transport back to Wakanda. That morning they’re all back at the dining table finishing up breakfast as the shuttle lands outside. Morgan throwing her arms around Uncle Scott’s leg with eyes asking them not to go as Steve hands their bags to the Wakandan warriors. 

“We’ll come visit, I promise kiddo.” Scott says, kneeling down to hug the little girl tightly before separating.

Tony, Pepper, and she wave goodbye as they lift off. They settle in for the few hours of the flight but both men end up smiling as Natasha looks out the small side window of the shuttle to see the ocean and then the jungle fly by. Scott’s nodding off as the shuttle enters the protective dome of the city, jolting him awake and to the window opposite Nat. Proud to see that work is already starting on the improvements they’d voted on just before the wedding. 

“Welcome home.” The pilot says, landing them in the clearing of their front yard, waiting for them to collect their bags before taking off and flying off to the main tower.

“Welcome to paradise.” Steve says, wrapping his arm around Natasha’s shoulders as they walk up to the house, Scott running ahead to unlock the door.

Scott makes quick work of packing up his computer and moving it back into the office as the Steve gives Natasha a through tour of the house, the workout shed, and the waterfall. He’s just wiping off the dining table when the pair come back in with matching smiles on their faces. Nat walking up to give Scott a kiss as well as she just takes in the real home they have now.

“Um, your stuff is in the garage.” Scott says, rubbing his neck and letting his stare drop to the floor.

“That’s ok, we can unpack it later.” Steve replies, kissing the man fully to reassure him, knowing that the man couldn’t have spent months looking at his stuff especially after the tension that had been between them.

“Will you put your rings back on?” The older man asks, placing his palm against the man’s chest where they were hanging. 

“How’d you propose to Nat?” Scott asks, a mischievous smile on his face as he slips the necklace off his neck to start taking the rings off of it.

“He took me out to an old Brooklyn diner and put it on the dessert. Waited five years to do that.” Nat explains, coming over to look at the two rings before the man slipped them back onto his fingers.

“I proposed to you right here, after you were thinking I didn’t like living here.” Steve chuckles, kissing them both on the cheek.

Laughing, Scott lies a gentle hand on the man’s waist before separating towards the kitchen with food on the mind. Not eating much for a few days was most of what was wearing on his sore head yesterday, so he really wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again today. Nat and Steve retreat to the garage to start grabbing the few boxes of his stuff and her own bags to start unpacking. Scott’s just about done with the chicken and rice dish when the pair returns. Steve falling into their usual routine of setting the table for lunch as Nat watches them.

“So Steve, do your bikes actually run?” Nat asks as she grabs the dish full of rice to set on the table as Scott brings over the platter of grilled chicken.

“The SHIELD one does, I’m still working on getting the older model up and running. Shuri taught me how to use a three-dimensional printer for the parts that don’t exist anymore.” Steve explains, bringing over the bowl of salad and some various condiments.

Sitting down, Scott bows his head a little and waits for those familiar words to come but Nat goes to eat while Steve hesitates for a moment then goes to follow her lead. The woman seems to sense his hesitation and the older man smiles at the thought as he clears his throat and bows his head. It’s a little rusty, but Steve goes through a longer version of his usual grace before finishing. Scott’s a little surprised when he hears Nat mumble an amen with him before they dig in.

“I didn’t know you said grace Steve.” Nat says after a few moments, smiling at the heavenly taste of the man’s cooking and suddenly there’s another checkbox for what she wants in a man.

“It’s an old habit, Scott let’s me do it. I really forgot about it after the snap though so don’t feel bad Nat.” Steve explains, cutting his chicken into smaller pieces to mix with his rice.

“It’s nice, at least you have something to believe in I guess.” She offers, taking another scoop of the rice to put on her plate.

“I suppose, it’s really more of a habit from my mother and last century. With everything that’s happened I don’t know whether to think God’s been watching the destruction or helping us get back to this.” He muses, taking a deep breath before digging back into his meal.

The pair smiles sadly and Scott watches the woman gently thread their fingers together in an attempt to keep the older man in the present rather than his memories. The relief starts in the man’s shoulders and rolls out of him in waves before he’s back to his warm smiling self. Silently communicating his thanks to Natasha as they finish up their dinner. Scott sets his plate in the sink and silently grabs the fruit pie he’d made to set on the table much to the delight of the two.

“Better than peanut butter sandwiches?” Steve comments, dishing himself up a few slices as he unconsciously licks his lips.

“Much better, you’re an angel sent from heaven Scott.” Natasha says, smiling around her first bite of the pie.

They retire to bed not long after finishing dessert and cleaning up the dishes. Natasha planting herself right in the middle of the two warm super soldiers. She knew they would have tried to reignite the flame from the wedding if they weren’t so exhausted and pliant with each other. Scott’s snoring with his cheek pressed against her shoulder within moment as Steve takes his time gently tracing the curve of her bare hip and side as they start to lull off as well.

Scott wakes up early that next morning in a sore and achy pain that saturates his back and arms, radiating down his spine and back up to his skull. He’d managed to hide it from Shuri, T’Challa, and Bucky in the weeks before the wedding, but now it wasn’t going to be as simple as slipping off for a bathroom break. From what he could tell it was a side effect of him snapping his damned fingers, his nerves tense and overactive at the same time. 

Rolling out of bed with a long and tense sigh, he gingerly sets his feet down on the carpet. Curling his toes into the threads in his first attempt to quell the cramps in his muscles. Sometimes all he had to do was tense and untense his muscles and it would be fine. Other times it would be like a migraine, curl into a ball and wait for the worst to pass on it’s own. He doesn’t count on a gentle hand setting itself on the small of his back, delicate fingers trying to coax him back to bed.

“Lie down Scott.” Nat mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

A cramp makes him grit his jaw as it runs painfully up his spine and into the base of his skull. The low whine he lets out has the woman sitting up quickly and quietly to come up and sit beside him. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he knows in the back of his mind that she’s looking at him with a measured expression of concern. Probably throwing around the ideas of waking up Steve or calling for help given his recent medical history and injury record.

“What do you need?” She asks, grabbing one of the smaller blankets to wrap around his bare trembling shoulders.

“Don’t know, muscles and nerves hurt, happened before.” He grits out, curling his hands into fists that have his knuckles turning white.

“C’mon, I have an idea.” Natasha says, gently leading him towards the master bathroom.

In just his boxers the toilet seat is cold on his thighs as the woman delicately guides him to sit down. Closing his eyes as if it will protect him from the brunt of the pain in his body, his expression shifts in curiosity as he starts to hear water running in the tub they have by the shower. A few minutes later his boxers are being pulled off his legs and tossed to the side. He’s honestly a little surprised when she’s able to maneuver him into the tub with how stiff and heavy he is. The relief is immediate as the hot water seeps into his body up to his neck. 

Nat disappears and reappears in a moment to him, gently scooping up water in a plastic cup to pour over his head. The woman’s calculated nature means that not a drop goes down his face or gets into his eyes. Her other hand coming up to delicately cup his jaw and run her thumb over his chin. The ache in his body starts to bleed out over the next few minutes, especially when her hand dips below the water the gently massage the more tense parts of his shoulders and sides. Even filling up the tub with more water to keep it warm for him.

“How are you feeling Scott?” She whispers as his eye lids start to droop closed, his chin jerking up to keep him from falling asleep in the water.

“Better, I’m gonna fall asleep soon if I stay here though.” He half slurs, smiling over at her with appreciation clear in his gaze.

“Let’s get you dried off and back in bed then handsome.” She replies, helping him stand up and step out of the water.

He’s barely conscious as she dries him off and helps him back into his boxers. Letting out the water from the tub before leading him back to the bed where Steve has moved into the center of the it and spread himself out. Chuckling under her breath, Nat gently shoves the man over to his side before lying the man down. Steve unconsciously wraps his arm around the now pliant man in the center of the bed while Nat climbs in on Scott’s side and nuzzles into his chest. Neither of them last very long before succumbing to sleep.

Scott wakes up the next morning pliant and still entirely too tired. Closing his eyes against the small amount of sunlight filtering between the blinds someone must have pulled closed, he flips himself onto his stomach and spreads out to realize that both sides of the bed are cool to the touch. His tired brain supplies him with the thought that they must have gotten up already and were going about their days. Yawning broadly, he snuggles back into the soft sheets with a content smile. Knowing that he would feel better once he slept it off more.

The episodes had started a few weeks before the wedding, coming and going with as much intensity as last nights. As long as he could sleep throughout the day, he was usually fine and could function by early evening. Sure he should probably be more concerned with his new affliction especially after the damage that the snap could still be having on his body. But there was also a part of him that didn’t want to know if something was going wrong, if the serum couldn’t keep up with this. Hopefully his partners would leave well enough alone and Nat would keep last night to herself. His hope is quickly dashed when he hears a trio of familiar voices coming down the once quiet hallway.

“He said it was muscular and nerve pain correct?” Shuri asks, her measured steps crossing the threshold of their bedroom as Scott feigned sleep by breathing evenly.

“Yeah, he could barely move last night. Only thing that helped him was the warm bath.” Nat explains, and damn that woman.

“You don’t think it’s more damage from the snap do you?” Steve asks, and even from his face being shoved into his pillow he knows that the older man is rubbing his hands together to curve his anxiety.

“We can’t rule anything out, it wouldn’t be out of the mind to think that there would-be long-lasting effects from something as powerful and hazardous as the snap.” The woman explains, and he starts to feel the bed dip on his right side.

“Has he woken up yet this morning?” She continues, gently peeling that blankets back until they were piled at his waist.

“I don’t think so no.” Steve says, the bed dipping on his other side as he hears the telltale of vibranium run machinery.

When a cold metallic probe gets stuck to the small of his back, he unconsciously flinches from the cool sensation on his warm skin. He let’s out an audible groan as the next six go on, doing his best to curl into the little warmth he has left but Steve holds him still. Hearing the machine turn on, he relaxes somewhat as the he guesses that it’s taking readings of his muscles and nerves for Shuri. His tense shifting has caused a smaller episode in his upper half. Letting out a whimper as those painful sensations race up and down his spine making that machine beep in alarm.

“Is this another episode?” Shuri asks, watching the measurements on the screen with a little bit of alarm in her face.

“Yes.” Scott bites out, curling into Steve’s touch as he shivers at the cramping sensations in his body.

“I’m going to go run a hot bath.” Nat says, her footsteps hurried as she disappears into the bathroom.

“Scott, tell me what you’re feeling right now. Pain scale numbers, anything.” Shuri presses, shooing Steve’s hand away as he goes to comfort his partner fearing that it will mess up the readings.

“Pains bad, feels like cramping in, my spine, back, muscles.” He grinds out, tears starts to run down his cheeks and soak into the pillow.

“Bath’s ready.” Nat says, coming back out with nervous smile on her face.

“I need more time to get the readings from this.” Shuri says, getting matching glares in return to her statement.

“He needs relief from the pain, don’t you have enough intel by now on that machine?” Nat shoots back, crossing her arm with a deadly glare.

“Sadly I need to measure a whole episode to get an accurate assessment of his condition. I know it’s hard to watch.” She replies with some guilt in her voice.

“Nat, Steve get out. Don’t need to see me like this.” Scott mumbles, scrunching up his face as another wave of white-hot pain rolls through his body.

“We’re not leaving, we’re here for you even if we can’t help right now.” Steve says firmly, not moving from his place beside the bed.

The episode lasts an agonizing two hours before subsiding into dull throbs in his muscles. His lips are cracked and his throat raw since he’d been screaming from the pain for at least half an hour of those two hours. He barely moves when Shuri gently removed the probes from his back, spine, and neck. Nat having run another bath assists Steve in lifting him from the sweat soaked sheets to place in the refilled hot bath. Shuri retreats to the man’s office to start looking over his readings with the help of his computer. 

“How’re you feeling hon?” Natasha asks, gently scrubbing a sponge over the man’s lax body.

“So sore, tired.” Scott mumbles under his breath in a hoarse whisper.

“I know sweetheart, just rest now.” Steve says, keeping close by the tub since his partner would have little issue sinking into the water and not coming back up considering his lack of strength and energy.

“Sorry, for not telling you.” He slurs, cracking open his glassy eyes to glance between the pair.

“I know you are, we’ll talk about it later when you’re better.” Nat reassures, tipping his head back to pour a cup of water over it.

He does end up passing out in the tub, Steve’s hands coming up to grab him underneath his armpits to keep him upright in the bath as Nat quickly finishes cleaning him. They make short work of lifting him from the tub, drying him off, and wrapping him in a clear pair of his pajamas before tucking him into bed with plenty of blankets. Steve elects to lie down with the man due to his nature as a personal space heater while Nat makes her way to the office to check in on what Shuri had discovered in the time it took to bathe the man.

“Anything?” The assassin asks, planting herself on the clear wooden edge of Scott’s desk.

“I’m still narrowing down the exact nerve that’s causing the short circuit in his nervous system, but I do know that while it is a remnant of the snap it’s not the energy of the stone’s wreaking more havoc on him. Once we find the nerve we should be able to target it and repair the damage. In the meantime, I’ll send over some heating pads and keep up with the baths. It would probably also be advisable to talk this out with him, since it’s probably been going on longer than we know.” The woman explains and Nat realizes that she’s starting to pack up to go back to her lab.

“You’re sure it isn’t dangerous to his health right now?” Nat pushes, catches her elbow with an expression that’s almost desperate for the reassurance.

“It’s as dangerous as any cramp, make sure it’s treated with massages and heat and he’ll be just fine. If he get’s a full body one and it’s bad shock might be an issue. Let me know if he has one that can’t be solved with the bath or heating pads.” She says, taking her leave as Nat silently thanks her before returning to the bedroom.

She finds Scott blearily nodding from where he’s lying on his back at something Steve is whispering to him, a content smile painting the older man’s face as his hand gently rubs up and down the man’s bare chest under the thick blankets. Smiling to herself, she gently strips off her leather jacket and shoes before slipping onto the bed behind Steve to lie her chin on his shoulder, her own hand coming up to rest of the man’s thigh as she watched the two interact.

“Hi Nat.” Scott mumbles, turning his still distant and tired eyes toward the woman with a lazy smile.

“Hi Scott, how’re you doing?” She asks, reaching her hand over to brush his damp hair from his eyes.

“Better, what’d Shuri say?” He slurs, turning his head toward the woman with a sleepy smile.

“That you’re going to be just fine once she has a little more time to look at your scans, just rest hon.” She assures, kissing him on the cheeks while lifting his arm to run her fingers through his feathery hair.

The younger man mumbles something at her before weakly dragging the blankets almost over his face if Steve had not caught his shaky hands with his steady ones with a huff of laughter. The mumbles continue for a few more minutes before turning into deep snores from their partner. 

“What did Shuri actually say?” Steve asks after a few minutes, making sure that his partner is completely out so that he doesn’t have to worry himself.

“There’s a nerve that was damaged by the snap that causing his nervous system to short circuit. She says he should be fine once she can find and repair it, we just need to manage his further episodes with heat pads she’s sending over and the baths.” Natasha explains, gently shushing the younger man as he mumbles in his sleep between snores.

“Anything else?” He presses, glancing over his shoulder to check the time on the alarm clock Scott had been bragging about having made.

“We need to talk to him, she has a feeling he was hiding what was going on.” She finishes, yawning broadly herself as the events of the night and morning start to catch up with her.

Scott wakes up later that afternoon to an empty bed again feeling much more rested than this morning especially after the episode. Taking a deep breath, he rolls out of bed and stumbles to the floor at the realization someone has taken off his prosthetic leg and arm in his sleep. Cursing under his breath, he glances around before finding them at the other end of the room near the entrance to the bathroom. He doesn’t get a moment to consider crawling over there before a pair of footsteps is entering the bedroom out of his view.

“Hey, you ok?” Natasha asks, kneeling down beside him.

“You took my leg, how dare you.” Scott says, face serious for a moment before dissolving into a lazy smile.

“We were trying to make you comfy.” She says with a smile, reaching over to grab his leg.

Chuckling, he lets her attach it to his stump before helping him to a stand. He wastes little time in pressing a kiss to her cheek before slipping past her into the bathroom to relieve himself. Coming back out, he follows the woman out to the living room that is surprisingly devoid of Steve. He’s also surprised to be led outside after putting on a pair of shoes, straight into the gym out building where 40s music is blaring over the sound system along with the rhythmic sound of fists on a punching bag.

“How long has he been at it?” Scott asks, watching the sweat roll down the older man’s neck and soak into the already soaked area on his light blue shirt.

“Hour or so, he got tired of lying in bed.” She says, walking around the gym with curious eyes trying to catalogue the inside of the building past the brief tour she’d gotten from Steve when they’d first gotten here.

“Hey handsome, you need a break yet?” The younger man asks as he turns down the volume of the swing music, slapping the man’s ass as he walk over to the wrestling mat to sit down on the cushy surface.

The laugh and breathless giggle that Natasha gives is entirely worth it when Steve honest to god squeaks at his action and turns around like he’s just been violated personally. Scott’s smiling ear to ear on his edge of laughing his own ass off when Steve growls and stocks over to the younger man. Suddenly Scott’s is on his back with the older man straddling his lap, a predatory smirk on his face before his lips are captured in a passionate kiss.

“No come back?” Steve chuckles, sitting back on his thighs to regard the speechless man underneath him.

“If my back wasn’t one move from sending me into another migraine, this would be a very good position.” Scott comments, lying his hands on the man’s strong thighs.

“How’re you?” The man asks, gently moving from straddling the man’s lap to lying on his side on the floor next to his prone form.

“Better, well no one told me that you guys took off my leg so the floor and I met and caught up.” The younger man chuckles, rolling over to kiss the concerned look off the man’s pouting face.

“Why didn’t you put on your arm?” The older man asks, smiling as the woman shimmies herself between them on the mat.

“Well I’m not supposed to be doing anything strenuous so I didn’t think I would need it.” Scott explains, curling himself into the woman’s side with a content sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm a little new to the Marvel Universe so some stuff might not add up to dedicated fans. Again thanks. There could be more to the story if you guys want it...


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